Two Weeks
by BelieveItOrNot
Summary: Based on 'One Week' by Barenaked Ladies. It's been one week since she looked at him, threw her arms in the air and said, "You're crazy." Edward is in trouble with his girlfriend and her parents. Will he learn to swallow his pride and overcome his fears? Will helping his sister through troubles of her own help Edward to face his? E/B, A/J This is their Much Ado About Nothing
1. One

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight**

This story is inspired by the song _One Week_ by Barenaked Ladies, both in lyrics and in tone.

A few months ago BohemianBuffalo tweeted a request for a fic based on this song and I agreed there was definitely a story or two in the song, so I said I'd do it.

Hope you like it! Here it is...

* * *

**Two Weeks**

One

The first thing you should know about me is that I laugh at really inappropriate times. There might be—I mean—there probably _are _more important things you should know about me, but the first thing I _want _you to know is how I laugh at the wrong time. People have a hard time understanding this. I can't explain it to them. They'll never get it. I'm not proud of it. I'm really not.

Let me just... I'll give you an example:

I laughed when Alice told me she was pregnant. To my benefit, a part of me thought she was joking, but then the thought fell through my mind, _Who would joke about something like that? Especially at sixteen._ I say that it fell through my mind because it fell out right after. I was hoping it was a joke. That was why I kept laughing. Not because I truly _thought_ it was a joke anymore, but at that point, it was hope. Maybe sixteen was exactly the right age for a joke like that.

She started looking at me with a glare that only made me laugh harder. I couldn't help it. That's what I do when I'm uncomfortable. Shoot me.

"Really sensitive, Edward. Really nice." Her eyes teared up all shiny. It hurt my chest, and I got my laugh under control.

"How am I going to tell Mom and Dad something like this?" She started twirling the ends of her hair at the nape of her neck. Her hair's so short that there isn't much to twirl so it kept falling from her fingers and she'd pick it up again. Still, a nervous twirling hair habit beats a nervous laughing habit any minute of the day.

She was peering at me with rounded eyes like she was looking for answers, like I had them. As if any second now I might say, _Let me just check the back pocket of my brain and give it to you straight_.

Her eyes are blue with brown flecks in them. There are enough brown flecks that people call them hazel, including our mom. But they're not hazel. They're blue with brown flecks. Hazel is just easier to say.

"Wait, wait. You're really pregnant? With a baby?"

She folded her arms and pursed her lips at me. "No, an iguana. What do you think?"

"How? I mean, why?"

"Oh, I don't know." She threw her arms up at her side like she wanted to emphasize how frustrated she was. She didn't have to. It was apparent in her voice. "I thought it'd be fun? A challenge? I was bored?" She collapsed to my bed, bouncing a little on the mattress. "Fuck." She covered her face.

My hand shot to my forehead and I paced back and forth a few times. "Jasper?"

"Who else?"

"What're you, I mean, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to -um- like, have it?" I started panicking. And I wasn't panicking one-hundred percent for Alice. Part of it was for me, because this was back in January when Bella and I had just started having sex, and with Alice's announcement, I was thinking things like, _What if this were Bella? What if... oh shit. _And Alice's pregnancy became real to me. Much more real than before when I was laughing.

And then she just started crying. I mean really bawling, the works, shoulders shaking and snot and all that. I hadn't seen her cry that much since our uncle's funeral. Back then I hadn't known what to do. I think I ended up squeezing her hand or something.

After watching her cry over her pregnancy for a little while on my bed, I sat next to her, pulled her up, and put my arm around her. I patted her shoulder a few times. She fell to my chest, and started crying even harder. I was a little worried she'd get snot on my shirt, but I didn't tell her that. No way. So, there I was, trying to comfort her, and she was getting worse? I thought I must really suck at this. Bringing my other arm around her, I patted her back—a few more pats than I'd given her shoulder. In between her gasps for breath, I told her it would be okay because I thought she needed to hear it, but even I didn't believe it. I'd already thought about the fact that she could have a baby to deal with her whole senior year. How could it have been okay?

I mean, her biggest problem up until that point was whether or not her lipstick matched her nails.

Hold on, before you start judging me or anything, I know this because she asked me about it a lot. And I'd learned not to say it looked okay, or it went together fine, because then I'd get a lesson on the difference between looking okay, going together, and matching. Matching is exact.

I'd say her grades were another problem, but they weren't really. Not because she got A's all the time, but because she didn't really care.

Anyway, so I was patting her back and telling her it would be okay, and then I thought I'd cheer her up.

"Hey," I said, letting go of her and giving her a little nudge with my shoulder so she'd sit up straight. "It's not like someone died, right?"

Her eyes went squinty again.

"No, I'm saying it could be worse." I don't know why I said that about someone dying. Probably because my uncle's funeral was still on my mind; it had only been five months back.

Speaking of the funeral, that was another time I'd laughed. Everyone was so sad. My mom told me later that my laughing wasn't so bad, she could've let that go, but when I started telling people jokes just to get them to laugh, that was when I went too far.

I told her I didn't get it. Who wouldn't want to laugh when all they were feeling was depressed? My uncle, he would've wanted everyone to laugh. I know this for sure. He was the biggest prankster of all. He used to freak my grandma out by taking off his clothes at night and laying them on his floor by his bed like a body lying there. My mom told me that even his shoes were there at the end of his pants. Once when we were visiting him out in Vegas, my sister and I had to share the pull-out bed in his living room. Well, just when we were about to fall asleep, there was this bang from underneath that made the mattress jump. I was eleven and she was ten and neither of us wanted to check under the bed. About an hour later I finally said I'd check, and all I did was peek over my side of the bed and this doll's head came rolling out. We both screamed. Yeah, I girl-screamed. And then we laughed, all three of us. I couldn't believe Uncle Marcus was patient enough to wait under there for an hour just to scare us.

After he died I got this tattoo on the inside of my arm. It was the exact tattoo he'd had on his shoulder-blade: a rifle, the barrel turning into a snake and rounding back toward its stock end with an open mouth. The tattoo was the result of his time in Desert Storm in the nineties. He said he wasn't, and never would be, the same after that. My mom and her brother were always really close, so she liked the idea of me getting a copy of his tattoo to memorialize him with. She even came with me to the tattoo guy to give her parental consent. I hadn't told my mom where I'd planned on getting it, though. When she saw it on my forearm instead of my shoulder-blade, to say she was pissed would be an understatement.

She got over it. Sort of. The way moms get over stuff. She brings it up every once in a while, calling it that thing on my arm, but the subject doesn't hang around too long the way it used to.

So if you think that I don't miss my uncle just because I laughed at his funeral, you're wrong.

By the way, that day two months ago with Alice, I did end up cheering her up. Well, _I_ didn't, exactly; Harrison Ford did. I put the movie on, though. I can take that much credit. It was violent, which I guess made her feel tough or like a fighter. She was able to tell our parents about her pregnancy after dinner. I didn't laugh. I was there, sitting in the living room, not laughing. I expected it. I was ready for it.

When they started talking about whether or not she'd have the baby, I went into the kitchen, into the freezer for ice cream. I could hear about the final answer later; I didn't need to be part of the conversation. It freaked me out, and at some point I was sure to laugh. Ice cream was definitely the safer option.

So, the reason I want you to know about my laughing in uncomfortable situations problem is because I've been dealing with it recently with my girlfriend. And if I had just started right off with that story, you'd probably have taken her side, and thought I was just some asshole whose story wasn't worth hearing. Maybe you'll end up thinking that anyway, but I'll give this a shot.

Bella's hurt that I fucked things up when I met her parents.

But here's the thing: I knew I would. I knew it. And I told her. I explained to her that the reason I didn't want to meet her parents was that I'd fuck it up.

And that takes me back to the week before all this happened with her parents. Before I agreed to meet her parents, Bella hadn't really talked to me for days. And get this, she was pissed at me for not wanting to meet her parents, and here she is, upset all over again because I met them. There's no winning with girls sometimes.

Let's go back in time two weeks, when she first asked me to meet them. Well, the truth is, that wasn't the first time she'd asked me, but it was the time she was really adamant about it, like in an almost ultimatum-type way. It wasn't exactly, "Meet my parents or I'll break up with you." It was more, "Meet my parents or my parents won't let me see you anymore."

We were on my bed fooling around. I remember how her mouth felt on mine, driving me crazy. I remember when I paused to catch my breath and looked down at her and how she stood out in her white shirt and pale skin just like a glow against the dark blue of my comforter. It didn't matter that a second ago we were translating _Much Ado About Nothing—_because that's what you do with Shakespeare, right? Translate it. Our school books were gone, crashed to the floor getting their pages all bent up. And who really knows how it started, the making out. We might've just accidentally touched fingers or looked at each other or maybe she said something Shakespearean again. But there we were, all over each other on my bed. We did that a lot, and it usually led to sex, but not this time. She kissed me so bad I was panting. And then, too abruptly, she pulled away.

Right now, sitting on my bed where she once sat, just thinking about the way she kisses, I grasp the chain I'm wearing and swing it back and forth so that it scrapes at the back of my neck. And I think about things I might've done differently that day she asked me to meet her parents, and while I can think of a few things, none of them end with any different result from where I am right now. Without her.

When her lips let go of mine, she looked down at me lying there flat on my back and said, "Will you come to dinner with me tonight?"

Except for times when she's angry or upset, Bella has this almost constant smile on her lips when she talks. It's like she can't help it. And when she asks a question, or sometimes when her inflection rises at the end of a sentence like just then when she asked me to dinner, her eyebrows raise up a little. It's right at the end. Her own question mark. It makes me want to touch her eyebrows. There have been times I couldn't help but just stare at her when she talked. Watching her could light me on fire. But I wouldn't hear a thing she said. This frustrated her, which would make the smile go away, which would make me snap out of it.

_Listen to me,_ she'd say.

_I can't help it,_ I'd say. _You mesmerize me._ It was nothing but the truth, and her smile came back.

On the bed as her eyebrows rose, she lifted her hands into her hair, pulling it and pulling it up into a ponytail, and when she sat like that with her hands working her hair, it pushed her chest out which made me want to cup her boobs. She dropped her hair letting it fall over her shoulders, and I took her fingers instead.

"Sure. Where do you want to go? And are you hungry right now or...?" I reached up to pull her face back to mine so we could kiss some more, but she put her hand on my chest and backed away. She didn't really have to back away. I was still lying down and she was sitting up, so we weren't even that close as it was. But that backing away told me something. I had no idea what it was telling me, but it told me enough to sit up and stop trying to kiss her.

"At my house," she said, looking at—I think—the headboard behind me. "With my parents."

By parents, she really meant her mom and her stepdad. Her real dad was still in her life, but Phil had raised her since she was three. So she called her stepdad Dad and her real dad Charlie. It was weird.

I moved my head into her line of vision. "What?" It was one of those "whats" you say when you heard the person, but you thought there might've been the slightest possibility you heard wrong.

"My parents want to meet you."

"Again?"

She hit at my shoulder and laughed a little. "What do you mean again?'"

I rubbed my shoulder to pretend she'd hurt me—maybe get some sympathy because, fuck, if her hitting me hadn't hurt me, the conversation sure would.

A month before, when she first brought up the subject of meeting her parents, I'd asked her why the hell she told them about me. She said, "As soon as I knew I loved you, I couldn't keep you a secret."

Girls and their values.

She shifted on my bed, waiting for my answer.

"I mean, I thought I - we talked about this, right? About how it isn't such a good idea that I meet them yet."

"Why don't you want to meet them?"

"What if they don't like me?" I meant that question. Or what I really meant was: _They won't like me._ I knew they wouldn't. For one thing—forearm tattoo aside—parents don't understand me and I don't understand them. Especially not girlfriend parents. I'm a seventeen year old guy. I'm the enemy. I'm not even the loyal boyfriend to them. To them, I'm the guy who screws their daughter. Period. The end. No argument. It's the same with my parents and Jasper. And look what happened to him and Alice.

And for another thing, her mom and stepdad are Christians. The kind who go to church. Two days a week.

"They'll love you because I love you," she said, because obviously she was clueless about the relationships between parents and boyfriends. "If you love me, then you'd want to meet them, wouldn't you? Like I've met yours. A lot."

Why did meeting her parents have to be so important? Why did not wanting to meet her parents have to mean I didn't love her? Really, what did one even have to do with the other? She is not her parents. It would have been possible to love her for the rest of my life and never meet them. That was possible.

"That isn't - That's not a fair statement at all." I got up off the bed and went to my dresser to start shuffling through my iPod.

"Well, it has to be."

I turned around. She was off my bed, too. All that was left on our favorite spot was a crinkled up comforter and thrown around pillows. And her lips were not doing that natural smiling thing. She was serious.

"What does that mean? If I say, 'No, I won't meet your parents,' you'll take that as I don't love you?"

"If you don't meet my parents, Edward, if you're going to keep being so freaking stubborn about this, then you can't see me anymore."

She says that, "freaking" instead of "fucking." I kind of like it most of the time. But sometimes, like just then, I wanted to hear her say the actual word.

But she hadn't said it, so I did.

"What the fuck does that mean? What, so I have to meet them _right now_. Or that's it? Is that your idea of love?"

"No. Not mine. Theirs. They say, and they both agree, that if you don't want to meet them, when I've asked you to several times, that you don't respect me. And I kind of agree with that, too."

I started to talk, but nothing came out. The truth was, I was pissed about that. About what her parents said and how they got her believing it. Parents are so tricky, and that's the thing. I would lose either way. If I didn't meet them, they'd take her away. If I did meet them, and they hated me, they'd take her away.

"_Moonshine_." Moonshine was something I started calling her to tease her and it stuck. I never said it really seriously, not like when couples call each other Honey or Sweetheart. I hate that. I couldn't do it with a straight face. I always called her Moonshine with this smile and this tone in my voice that told her I was teasing her and loving her at the same time. As I said it then, I stepped toward her with a smile, and she stepped back. She was too serious about this.

"Don't call me that right now."

There were tears gathering up in her eyes, and you know by now what happens when I see things like that. At least, you should.

The laugh was quiet. It almost wasn't there at all.

"Don't start that, Edward. Just be serious for once."

"Okay. But just not tonight. Another night. Next week, maybe. Or ask them how next month sounds."

She shook her head at me.

"I was joking about next month. But next week, how about that?"

"How about..." she stepped closer to me, arms folded, her head cocked to the side. "We don't talk again until the day you're ready to meet them? That very day, you tell me, 'I'll meet your parents tonight.' Then we'll talk. Because otherwise, they won't let me date you. We'll only be able to hang out at school. Is that what you want? Is it that important to you to never meet them?"

"They're not going to like me."

"Stop about that. They'll like you. Just be you." She took my arm and shook it. "The beautiful you. The you that loves me, and they'll like you." She turned to pick up her books.

"Hey, Bella?"

She stopped and looked up at me.

"All of me loves you. Even the fucked up parts."

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading. This is much different in tone than my other stories so I'd love to know what you think so far. :)

Also I've entered a collaborative three-chapter ficlet I wrote with Thimbles into the Lumineers "Ho Hey" Twi-fic contest. It's titled_ High Maintenance_. If you're interested, check it out along with the other entries. It's a great idea for a contest, and so much fun to see what other stories the song inspires. I tried to add the link here but I'm not stealthy enough for that anymore. Bits of it keep disappearing. If you want the link to the contest profile page just let me know. :)


	2. Two

Two Weeks

Two

After I said that to her, that all of me loved her, she gave me this weak, corner-of-the-mouth smile and walked out like she was starting the silent treatment right then. I stood there at my door shaking my head. I tried to do the mature thing and think about it from her perspective, but my perspective kept popping up and nudging in front of hers. _Don't meet her parents: lose her. Meet her parents: probably lose her anyway_. And on top of that I was pissed that she'd brought up love. If I loved her, I'd go. Isn't that like the sort of thing guys aren't supposed to say? _If you love me you'll do it with me._ I've never said that to her, by the way.

But here she and her parents were implying that if I didn't want to meet them, it was because I didn't love her. Then. _Then_, after everything, I told her all of me loved her and she walked out. So, yeah, I was pretty pissed off.

I was pissed off to the point that, as I heard her car start up outside my window, I decided I would not be the one of the two of us to talk first. She'd said we couldn't talk until I said I'd go. Well, now I wouldn't agree to go until she either A: apologized for walking out on me, or B: told me all of her loved me back.

Except the thing was, I knew her plan, she didn't know mine, and if I wasn't talking to her, I couldn't tell her. Maybe I could get Alice to tell her.

I went down the hall into Alice's room.

It looked different now with a crib being set up in there. It wasn't all put together yet. There were still wood pieces and screws on the floor. Our dad had said that it was Jasper's job to put it together, but Jasper only did a little bit at a time.

I walked in. Alice was crying again. She did that a lot now that she was pregnant. And I didn't know which were real, meaningful tears, and which were just pregnant-hormone-making tears.

After I got some chuckling out of the way—I tried to make it sound like I was just clearing my throat, but even when I do that the people who know me really well, like family and Bella, know exactly what I'm doing—Alice didn't even turn her head so I thought maybe those were real, meaningful tears.

"What's wrong?" I squatted down beside her where she was sitting between her bed and the half-unbuilt crib. It was all lopsided and propped up against the wall.

When she answered, I had to listen extra carefully and try to guess what she was saying because of how hard she started bawling as soon as I asked. This told me that I'd guessed wrong before. This was pregnancy crying. I knew because she went from ten to one-hundred in under a second, and she'd never done that before in her life—aside from the few times she fell down and hurt herself.

"What?" I asked, because I really couldn't figure it out.

She took a few breaths. "I'm tired of this looking like a mess in here." She sniffled, and while holding a piece of paper, wiped her nose with her knuckles. "So I'm trying to do it myself, but look." She showed me the instructions. "See those?" She pointed to a picture of screws.

I told her I saw them.

"It shows one set bigger than the other, doesn't it?"

"Clearly."

"Well, look." She had all the screws in her palm and I saw what she meant. They were all the same size.

"First of all, it's dark in here. There's this thing recently invented called electricity, and since we're of the wealthier variety of our species, we also have these weird looking things called lamps." I made a gasp sound pretending to be surprised at the sight of her lamp. "And yes, you have one right here!" I went to her desk and switched it on. "Now, let me have a look."

I took all the screws from her. "You know what this might mean? Maybe it doesn't really matter which screws go where."

She said she'd thought that, too, but when she tried one, it was too small. "I think this was a screwed up box." She pushed at the box like it was all the box's fault.

I dropped the screws into the little baggie she had. "Where's Jasper? Why isn't he helping you?"

She sat back and crossed her legs and her chin quivered. "He won't come over. He - he's freaking out. It freaks him out." She pointed to the crib. "And I don't even care. He can go. I don't need him. I don't even want him. He can go."

Sure. I saw the way she didn't care, didn't want him, the tears pouring down her face.

I nodded at her and turned to what was there of the crib—partially put together, partially in pieces. Seemed kind of like their lives right now. I could understand this freaking a guy out. _Why doesn't this sort of thing freak out girls? _I thought. _Why do they get a free pass?_ But then I remembered Alice and all of her tears and realized that they do freak out, they just don't run or ignore it or whatever. Except for Bella, it seemed, who was ignoring me.

That reminded me of why I'd gone to Alice in the first place, but I didn't think dumping my problems on her was something to do right then. She had enough of her own.

"What we'll do," I said, picking up a wood post and getting to work, "is put together what we can with the screws we have, and then we'll go to the hardware store and buy the right size. So, I'll do this. And you check out the instructions and figure out what size screws we need, and how many."

I grabbed the electric screw driver and shook it at her. "You been using this? You'll hurt yourself."

"Why? Because I'm a girl? You think I might just start screwing it into my ear?"

"Exactly." I was just trying to get her to laugh. It didn't work.

You're probably wondering where our old man was, why good ol' Carlisle Cullen wasn't helping out his baby girl. He was still in some kind of denial at that point. He was acting like if he didn't think about it or do anything about it, it would go away. Sometimes I would catch him looking at Alice and then look away shaking his head, and even_ I _hoped she'd never see him do that.

He's not a rotten guy. He's not the kind of guy who laughed at his uncle's funeral or anything—har, har—but he didn't know how to deal with this for the first couple of months after Alice told him about it. He went mostly silent, except when he yelled. He'd been yelling about the most idiotic things.

A few weeks back he just about had a coronary because the paperboy didn't get the newspaper on the doorstep. "I'm not tipping him when he comes to collect. It's a straight shot right from the street. Instead he curves his shot to our driveway, and under my car. The little shit probably does it on purpose."

A couple of days later, while putting away groceries, and while my mom complained about the price of vegetables and how they're never even as good as we could grow ourselves, my dad bellowed from the refrigerator, "Why didn't anybody tell me we were out of milk?"

"I'd love a vegetable garden out back," my mom said.

"I was just at the store, for Christ's sake!"

"Stop shouting, Carlisle," my mother said. "Nobody knew we were out. It's not as if we were trying to keep a big secret from you."

So I helped Alice with what I could of the crib, then I took her to the hardware store and helped her find the right screws, and then I took her to dinner.

As she pulled a slice of pizza from the platter, moving it dripping with cheese onto her plate, she asked me where Bella was, and I told her. "She's having dinner with her parents."

...

I can tell you about when I first really talked to Bella. That's not too sappy. I'd met her before. She was friends with Alice. But I hadn't said much to her other than hello and goodbye. It was the third week of school, and she was still pretty new. This asshole Tyler tripped her. Don't misunderstand me, he is an asshole, but he didn't trip her on purpose. It was during gym. The girls were running the track; the guys were kicking around soccer balls. Tyler was working on his shooting: set it up, kicked it, right in front of Bella who tripped after the ball hit her shin. She fell to her hands and then to her knees, like in slow motion. It looked like that to me. Everyone else, I think they saw it in regular motion. The guys around laughed. I laughed too, not to be a jerk, but just because I'm me. Nobody even asked if she was okay except for the two girls who were running with her. I jogged over just to see.

After I shook off my laugh, I really looked at her.

Her knee was all skinned and bleeding, her palms were all scratched up. She lifted her head toward me. Her face was heated up red, her eyes shined light brown, and she looked like she was fighting tears. A couple of low chuckles from me, and that was it because there was something about her just then. Maybe it was the almost tears or the way the wind blew over her, but whatever it was, it made me want to touch her hair. Push it back off her face. Or just touch her face.

She was sitting with her legs bent, and she dropped her gaze to check out her knee. She touched it.

"Are you okay?" I asked, squatting down.

She didn't say anything, but she nodded. I could tell the reason she wasn't saying anything was because she was afraid she'd cry. I hoped she didn't actually cry because then I might not have been able to stop myself from doing something embarrassing like wipe her tears away.

I cleared my throat.

"Go ahead," I told the other girls. "I got it."

With my arms on my knees, I leaned in to get a better look. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it when my eyes wandered down her legs, checking out the bottom of her thigh where her gym shorts opened. I didn't see anything but leg, smooth, soft-looking, touch-worthy leg. I swallowed and let my eyes drift back to her knee.

"That needs to be cleaned up."

"I have blood on my fingers," she said, and winced. It was like that was worse to her than her gashed up knee.

I shrugged. "It washes off." That seemed pretty obvious, but it also seemed like she'd forgotten logic.

"I hate blood. It-it makes me queasy." She held her stomach with her unbloody hand.

"I'll help you to the nurse." I lifted her by her underarms to her feet. She limped a little, so I put an arm around her. I felt the side of her body lean against mine. Her waist was right at my hip and her head was against my shoulder. Because she was hobbling it was a long, slow walk. I could've easily picked her up and carried her, but I didn't know her well enough to treat her like I was some action hero or something.

She looked up at me when we were halfway to the building, and it was the first time I saw her do that smile thing when she talked, and when she talked she said, "You're nice."

She didn't know that I was doing this because she was Alice's new pretty friend whose thigh I'd just checked out, or because it also got me out of the rest of gym period. I wasn't really doing it out of the kindness of my heart. I probably wouldn't have done it if it had been another girl who had fallen. I would've let her girlfriends take care of her.

The truth was, though, I could be nice when I wanted to. But I wasn't always nice because nice isn't cool.

Hey, I don't make the rules.

But when she called me nice, she made it sound cool, or like something I wanted to be, so instead of taking her to the nurse, I took her to the girls' room and did for her what the nurse would've done.

Sort of.

First I got her to the sink so she could wash the blood off her hands. The nurse would've done that, I was sure.

But after that, the nurse definitely wouldn't have lifted Bella to the radiator. She also wouldn't have weirded the other girls out who were in there. They weren't too bad. A few giggled. Heidi asked me what the hell I thought I was doing, and Gianna said, "Edward Cullen. Another asshole who thinks he owns the school."

I said, "You know it."

I could feel their eyes on me until they were out the door.

"Forget them," I said to Bella.

I went into a stall and got some toilet paper. I realized the nurse wouldn't have done that either. But after I got it wet, I dabbed Bella's knee with it. Now, that. That is what the nurse would've done.

I could tell Bella wasn't watching me. She had her face raised to the ceiling.

"Please ignore my B.O.," she said.

I straightened. She was holding her arms in close to her sides. Other than whatever air-freshener they used to keep the toilets from stenching up the place, I hadn't noticed another smell. But now, out of curiosity, a part of me wanted to take a sniff.

"I was wondering what that... pungent aroma was."

"We did all that stretching and then running and-"

I went back to work at her knee.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a hand holding each opposite elbow. There was a silver chain hanging down under her shirt. "I swear I bathe and wear deodorant. Even today when my sister took it-"

"Okay," I said.

"I got it back."

"Relax. I don't smell anything. Your sweat probably smells like roses anyway. Like your blood."

"My blood smells like roses?"

Realizing this was probably not a conversation she would've had with the nurse, I fought a smile.

I kept the tissue pressed against her until I knew the bleeding had stopped, at least enough for her to actually go to the nurse and get a Band-aid. As I held the tissue to her knee she took my face in her hands like she forgot all about her maybe B.O. We looked at each other. Eye to eye. Almost nose to nose.

"Thank you," she said, and her voice was too damn quiet and whispery for being alone in a bathroom with my hand on her leg.

"You're welcome." My other hand was on the side of her unhurt knee. I hadn't even noticed what I was doing before she looked down at it. I left it there until she moved to get up.

…

Alice told me she wasn't going to get involved in what she called the Bella's Parents' Situation. She said because she was friends with Bella it wasn't right for her to take sides. "If you want me to tell her you'll go to her house, that's one thing," she'd said. "But I'm not telling her you refuse to talk to her." So at school I had to break my silent treatment in order to tell Bella about my silent treatment.

"Wait a second," Bella said, slamming her locker shut, lifting her bag over her shoulder and turning to me. "You're talking to me and it's not to tell me that you're ready to meet my parents but that I owe you an apology?"

"Yeah."

"Edward, have I ever told you I love you before?"

"Uh-huh."

"But I only said it that one time, right?" She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, shoved it behind her, and stood leaning to one side with a hand on her hip.

"What?"

"I said, I've only said it once, right?"

"No."

"No. I say it like every time I see you. I'm asking you to meet my parents so that they will let me keep going out with you. For some reason, you'd rather be apart from me. Go figure out what you want, and then come back and talk to me when you're ready to make sense."

Somehow she'd just become the guy in the relationship. And there went my tail, right between my legs as, shoulders hunched, I walked away.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading! I appreciate all the reviews. :)


	3. Three

Two Weeks

Three

Bella and I may not have been talking, but that didn't mean that the inner-workings of things: the body, the mind—and, yeah, love—just shut down. It still went on. Still kept ticking. Something like a ticking bomb happened inside my chest when I walked into the living room to find Bella sitting on the coffee table. My heart seemed to take a break. I started to step toward her until she said one word: "Alice."

She pointed toward the kitchen. Alice was coming out with a sandwich in one hand and her other hand on her roundish belly. She waved Bella over and I watched my girlfriend step past me without looking at me, watched her hips in her jeans sway as she climbed the stairs. I tilted my head. Was she putting more swing into it than necessary?

"My mom doesn't like when people sit on the coffee table," I called up after her, my hand gripping the banister, twisting around it. I felt like an idiot after that. Even if it was true—even if when my feet were in nothing but socks my mom would tell me to get my feet off her table—sitting on that table wasn't something I'd ever stop someone else from doing. Especially not Bella. She pretended not to hear me, which was best for things all around.

A part of me ached. Most of me ached, to be honest. The ache was pushing me to storm up the stairs, pull Bella into my room and tell her what she wanted to hear. Tell her I was sorry for doing this to her. But I still wasn't sure about meeting her parents. I had to prepare myself somehow, although I had no idea how to do that. How do you teach yourself in a day or two how to say all the right things and not say all the wrong things? How could I just be myself, like Bella had told me, when most of myself should probably not be paraded out in the open in front of her parents? I was starting to sweat, one foot on the step above me and my hand holding too tight to the banister.

I looked down at my tattoo. Uncle Marcus would tell me not to be such a pussy. I could hear him saying it, emphasizing the word _pussy_. He'd first said it to me when I was eight and too scared to try any tricks on my skateboard.

I heard music start up in Alice's room, the door left open. It was some classical piece, an influence from Bella I was sure. It was probably Bella who put it on.

Bella plays piano. No, she doesn't just play piano, she is crazy-good at it. I heard her playing in the music room at school a few weeks after Tyler's soccer ball had tripped her. I stood right inside the door, leaning against the wall and listened. I left before she finished so she wouldn't see me. It turned out she knew I was there anyway, and gave me a hard time about spying on her.

Since she was a junior and I was a senior, we didn't have any classes together other than Gym—where I'd recently been distracted by her jumping rope. I could tell you about how her hair bounced over her shoulders, how other parts of her bounced in her tight shirt, how her legs flexed. Then I might also have to tell you about how Jared told me to wipe away my drool.

Other than Gym, we'd been hanging out during lunch, and in the hallways between classes. I knew that when I laughed it made her laugh. I knew she brought weird stuff for lunch like baguette slices and artichoke cream cheese that she spread on with a plastic knife. Because I was sitting with Bella, I also had to sit with other juniors like Alice and Jasper—this was months before he was on my shit list for knocking Alice up. Jasper pissed me off when I was talking to him about her weird lunches and he asked, "Who?" I wanted to say, "Who the hell do you think?" But then I thought it was probably better that he wasn't noticing Bella or what she brought to lunch since he was going out with my sister.

My mom would say Bella and I were dancing around each other. That's always what she called it when she caught me looking at a pretty girl. There was this girl at our cousin's wedding last year I was eyeing. "Stop dancing around her and go talk to her," my mom had said. I hadn't moved my feet, let alone danced. But Bella and I were closer to dancing. At least we were walking around each other, and play fighting, and smiling, and laughing, and trying to tell each other things with our eyes, only I couldn't understand what hers were saying most of the time.

Walking with her in the hallway, I decided I had to make a move before she called me her friend. So I went for it. I asked her out. Or I guess I didn't technically ask her. I said, "Go out with me on Friday night."

She laughed, which—even if laughing was something I understood—knocked my ego down a few notches.

Light from all the windows lit up her eyes. She narrowed them at me. "I know you were spying on me in the music room."

I figured this was her way of ignoring what I'd said, and then it hit me that I wasn't even sure if she had a boyfriend or not. I assumed she didn't, not at our school anyway. But there was, I reminded myself, a whole world outside of our school. Maybe her boyfriend wasn't even in high school. Maybe he was in college. Though that begs the question: would a taken girl let you bring her to the girls' room and touch her leg without at least mentioning her boyfriend? I didn't have answers to questions like that one.

I let it go. For the time being. "What were you playing?"

"Clair de Lune," she said, starting to walk with the crowd again. "It means moonshine. Charlie, my real dad, got me this jewelry box that played it. Underneath was a sticker that had the title of the song and its translation. I used to open the lid at night just to listen to it in the dark. It was like I could see the music. Like each note was a little speck of light-" she poked at the air with her index finger as if she was pointing out specks of light "-some brighter than others. I didn't really have any jewelry to put in it, so I put little toys in it. Little relics." She shrugged. "I wanted to learn how to play the song."

"You have jewelry now," I said, flicking at the silver charms that hung on her long chain. "Music notes. Relics."

She stopped and lifted the charms from where they hung way down the middle of her chest between her boobs. "The pendants are from Charlie, too. Treble clef and bass clef. For the piano."

"Do you always play in the music room? They let you do that?"

"Only the last couple of days. I just - I'm nervous. I've been practicing for something." She dropped her necklace. "Something important."

She started to elaborate on the "something important," but I got trapped staring at her face. I watched how her lips moved when she talked, showing the tips of her front teeth; the pattern of light freckles next to her eye; how she blinked her long eyelashes; how her eyes looked into mine when I was paying attention. I had to bring my thumb and index finger to the corners of my mouth, dragging them down to the center of my lip, and tug on it so that I could fight off the urge to kiss her.

Obviously I had to make her repeat herself.

"Listen this time," she said, and I worked at it, aiming my ear at her instead of my eyes. She told me about this piano instructor over in Port Angeles. She said you have to audition for him just to get him to teach you. And getting an appointment for an audition was hard enough because he only held auditions when he had a new spot available.

"You'd think this guy was Juilliard," I said, not knowing much more about Juilliard than that it was a prestigious music and dramatic arts school in New York.

"Not even close. But still."

"You can do it, _Moonshine_," I said, nudging her elbow with mine. I'd said it because I wanted her to know I was listening. But the smile on her face made the nickname come up again, and then again, until it stuck.

Right after I said "Moonshine," and she smiled, about four steps away, Ben clocked Eric in the face. I heard it, then saw it, Eric stumbling back, righting himself and going for Ben. He landed a fist, and I held Ben back before it got out of hand. "Outside," I said as he was saying, "You should've heard what he said about Angela." Across from us, Bella-_Bella_-was trying to hold Eric back.

I let go of Ben.

"If you hurt her..." I jutted my chin toward Bella. Eric calmed down, shrugging her off.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, my eyes as incredulous as my voice.

"What are _you_ doing?" She was out of breath and there was a sheen across her forehead.

"You could've gotten punched. Are you insane?"

"You could have too." She folded her arms across her chest, both an eyebrow and a corner of her lip quirking.

"You _are _crazy."

A crowd of students and teachers had gathered. All four of us were sent to Mr. Mallory's office for questioning.

Eric and Ben were called in one at a time. Everyone else had long since been in class. That left Bella and me alone on the bench in the hall, next to the blue door. The principal's office was the only room in the school with a blue door. I've waited there many times, but I can say without a doubt that this was Bella's first time on that bench.

Even if adrenaline was still pumping through me, I did not imagine it when Bella scooted closer to me. I would've put money down that this was not my imagination. I turned my head to look at her. She was definitely already looking at me. She smiled, and then sort of nodded and looked down like she was nervous. When she looked back up at me, some of her hair had fallen over her face.

I reached up to push it around her ear and my hand stayed there against her jaw. She closed her eyes. I leaned in. She smelled like something familiar, like my last birthday cake. Like frosting. I kissed her cheek. Or, I meant to kiss her cheek, but got her a little farther back, next to her ear, and the breath she took in as my lips touched that spot—there was no way I could stop myself from going right for her open mouth, particularly her bottom lip.

She turned her body toward me and I turned mine toward her. Clutching my shirt sleeves she tugged me closer. Her hands ran down my arms and then slid back up into my hair at my neck. I pulled her in close by her waist. Right up against me. All of her. She was practically in my lap. My hands were exploring her back, up and down, around, resting at that curve right before her ass. Maybe they met her ass. I can't be sure. I was too involved in the kiss to be sure. But if I did touch her ass, she didn't push my hand away or back up or stop kissing me. I broke off, but only to plant more kisses over her face.

Her skin was heating up under my lips.

I slid my hands all the way up her body to her face. With my hands holding her cheeks, I looked down at her, her eyes still closed. Her lips, full and wide, were still parted as if waiting for me, wanting me. Wanting. I kissed her like she wanted.

When she pulled back, my hands caught her arms at her elbows. We were both looking at each other. Right in the eyes. Both breathing heavy. This was a moment when you're so out of it you might accidentally tell the person in front of you you love her. I didn't though. I kept that in. Because, well the truth was, I didn't love her, not then. But if I'd known what love felt like, I would've known I could love her, that it was a possibility.

I chuckled, nervous after thinking thoughts that involved love, and she asked, "What?" and I said, "Nothing."

We sat back against the wall, facing the window across from us, like at the same time we both remembered where we were—still in school. I put my hand on her leg. She covered my hand with hers.

I could feel her shoulder rise up and down against mine with her breathing.

"Do you smell like chocolate?"

"It's my lotion."

"I'm pretty sure that's why I kissed you." I opened my fingers to slide them up between hers.

"Hmm. Then I wonder why I kissed you."

"You couldn't resist."

"Is that a challenge?"

We still hadn't looked at each other. At least, I hadn't looked at her. I turned her way.

"Are you done trying to dodge going out with me?"

She was smiling. Her eyes shifted to mine. "I wasn't dodging you." Her eyebrows rose.

"You ignored my question."

"You didn't ask a question. You made a command."

"Why don't you switch it up and ask me out, _Moonshine_? Feminism and everything."

"Do you have a problem with just _asking_?"

"All right." I play-huffed at her, and asked under my breath, "Will you do me the honor of going out with me, Bella Swan?"

"When, Edward Cullen?"

"You know when." She was being ridiculous but I knew what she was doing. "Friday. Night. You better say yes fast because I'm really close to revoking my hell of an offer."

Before she answered, Eric exited the principal's office and told Bella it was her turn. As she opened the door to go in, she turned to me. "No restaurants."

I sort of frown-smiled at her not knowing what that meant.

That kiss on the bench wasn't the one Bella would call our first. There was another one before that. Kind of. When I told you about the time I cleaned up her knee in the bathroom, I didn't exactly tell you all of it because I was trying to avoid sappy. But since I'm way past sappy now, what does it matter? I didn't have a Band-aid to offer her the way the nurse would have, and she wasn't really bleeding anymore. So I put my fingers to my lips and I kissed them and then I put my fingertips against her knee. I know, it's not technically a kiss—I don't think so either—but Bella calls it our first kiss so I go with it. Sometimes the guy just has to go with it and it might as well be over something that's really not that big of a deal.

...

With Bella gone, so was the classical music. Hard rock boomed from Alice's room until our parents forced her to turn it off and come down to dinner. Alice was in some mood at the dinner table. She was banging stuff around, like her glass after she took a drink, or her fork on her plate, and even her food in her mouth, shoving it in like she was punishing herself. I was relieved when my mom started talking crazy about a few bricks she thought were missing out front.

She was convinced that someone was stealing our garden bricks one at a time. She said she first noticed a change in how they sat together a little looser a few weeks ago.

"Now there's such a gap between each brick that I'm positive there are fewer than before."

I looked over at my dad to see if he could believe this. Who would steal bricks one at a time? I mean, if you were going to steal bricks, wouldn't you just load up all at once? My dad was over there at his end of the table not reacting at all.

Alice, of all people, was the voice of reason. "Who the fuck would steal one or two bricks?"

"Alice," my mom said. "Your language."

"No, really. Were they short just a few bricks and thought they'd take them from us one at a time over the span of weeks?"

"Possibly. Who knows why anyone does anything. Maybe all it is is a prank. But I'm telling you-" she wagged her fork at Alice "-someone is taking them. I'm getting a sign before they take any more."

"A sign?" my dad said. Now he was finally seeing the insanity here.

"A sign," she said, and took a bite, and that seemed to end the conversation.

While Alice and I were doing the dishes and she was still in that pissed off mood of hers, I asked her what was up.

"Jasper's an asshole," she said, shoving a plate at me. I rinsed it.

"What did he do?" I slipped the plate into a slot in the dishwasher.

She went over to collect more dishes from the dinner table. "That's just it." She shoved another plate at me. "He doesn't _do _anything. I'm sick of him not being here for me and the baby. Sick of it."

I didn't think I should point out that the baby wasn't here yet to do anything for. But I guessed I knew what she meant. The crib and all that, and maybe the tummy rubbing or whatever it was soon-to-be-dads do.

"You want me to talk to him? And watch it with those plates before you break one. You might be accused of brick-thieving."

She laughed at that, which made me a little proud. I tried to come up with another joke to crack, but her humorous mood was already gone. "Don't you dare say anything to Jasper. Don't you dare. I'm handling it."

I held up my hands in a sign of surrender. "I was just asking. It wasn't a threat for fuck's sake."

Then she told me that earlier, up in her room, Bella kept asking about me. I wanted to know more, but she wasn't giving me more.

"What did she ask?"

"I don't know, just questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"You know, like how are you, what have you been doing, those sorts of things."

"Well, what did you tell her?"

"I told her you were you except quieter."

Conversations like these, when you have to keep asking question after question just to get the tiniest bit of information, piss me off.

"And what did she say, Alice? Shit."

"She said you weren't talking. Which I already know, so what else was there to say?"

_Oh, I don't know. How about:_ _You're being ridiculous; go talk to my brother who's crazy about you?_

"How long is this going to go on?" I thought I'd said it quiet enough under my breath, but apparently my sister has elephant ears.

"How long's what going to go on?"

I didn't answer her.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading. I appreciate the time you take to review. It seems like a lot of you have the nervous laughing habit in common with Edward. :)


	4. Four

**Two Weeks**

Four

The only way I could get help with the "Bella's Parents' Situation" without actually asking for help was to set up some one-on-one with Emmett after school. One-on-one basketball, that is, in case you thought I meant one-on-one time, or male-bonding. I wouldn't have used those terms anyway, even if that was what I had meant. I would've more than likely called it a man to man talk.

Anyway, we'd shoot some hoops and I would tell him what was up and he'd tell me what was what. It was one thing that usually bugged me about him, his inability to keep his trap shut when it comes to other people's business. But this time his uncontrolled-opinionated-mouth could work to my advantage.

To get to the courts I have to drive over hills braced by thousand-mile-high trees. There are hardly any cars on this road so I like to roll every window down and blast my music. I did it that day, too, on my way to meet Emmett, wondering how far the sound traveled. Could it wind around trees all the way to the river until it was drowned out by rushing water? Did it wake wild animals? Scare them? Ruin their hunts? Did they ignore it? Whatever was out there to hear it, they were getting an earful of Led Zeppelin's _Willow Tree_.

I didn't actually tell Emmett about Bella while we were playing one-on-one. You don't stand around yapping, or even dribble around yapping. You talk smack is what you do, if you say anything at all. Emmett won. By a lot. My head wasn't really in the game. I kept thinking about Bella and how I'd seen her leave the cafeteria by herself, how I'd followed her—hanging back so she wouldn't catch me—into the music room. She played a new song, one I hadn't heard before. It wasn't a somber song, but it was depressing watching and listening to her play. A few times she got snagged up and started over. The last time she hit the wrong key, she played a low chord that had nothing to do with the song, shook her head, and stood.

So even though I wasn't thinking about anything but Bella, I didn't mention her until Emmett and I were seated at the diner down the street from the courts. Only I wasn't able to bring the subject up right away because Emmett was distracted.

The Blonde was behind the counter, which meant Emmett would only pay one-quarter of his attention to me. Another quarter would be paid to his hair, and the rest to The Blonde. We both knew her name was Rosalie and that she went to a private school three towns away. Also, there were other blondes in the world, and even others in Forks, but to Emmett, Rosalie was The Blonde.

"Today's the day," he said, the same way he said it every day we were here and she was there, behind the counter.

"Right."

He couldn't talk to her. He could talk to any other chick but her.

"This is it." He tapped the table with his finger and stood up. He looked determined, narrowing his eyes and nodding at the table. But determination did not always equal results, and it wasn't the table that kept tripping him up. I watched him head to the front. I knew he would only end up asking for a drink-refill or something. I couldn't watch.

Biting into my burger, I noticed Jasper sitting alone at a table over in the corner by the window. The sun coming in from outside was shining a beam of light right on his face and over his table like he was some divine being, some saint. Alice had told me not to talk to him, but when you're looking straight at someone you're pissed off at, and the sun is shining on him like that, what people tell you to do or not to do doesn't make an ounce of difference. I put my burger down, took a slurp through my straw, wiped my mouth, and rounded a bunch of tables over to his.

"Hey, Cullen," he said without looking at me.

"I'm doing your job."

"My job?"

"Yeah. I built the crib. I hung the mobile. I bring her water after she pukes and I'm there when she cries." I left out the part about me having to get hold of my laughter first. And thinking about it now, I can see how it might seem hard for a guy to sound tough when he uses words like "crib" and "mobile." Luckily I had enough rage in me in the moment not to worry about things like that. I assure you, I did OK. "Time to step up."

"Step up? She told me to go away. And look, I thank her for that. She released me. Freed me."

I looked him over. He didn't appear too free to me. His hair looked like it had been through hell. His eyes looked like they'd been punched around a few times. With his elbows on the table, he dropped his head into his hands and started rubbing his forehead. I pulled a chair out and enjoyed the dramatic sound of the legs scraping against the wood floor. I sat on the chair backwards. I wasn't planning on staying there long.

"You're talking about my sister. The chick you knocked up? And yeah, I'd say she was smart to kick you to the curb. But you're wrong if you think you're free. As long as I'm around-" I shook my head at him and pointed a finger in his face. "-_free _isn't in your vocabulary."

I got up and went back to my burger, glancing over at Emmett. He was being handed a drink and another plate of chicken wings by The Blonde.

Finally he came back to our table in silence, and I knew the reason he wasn't saying anything was because there was nothing to say. Not about The Blonde. So that was when I brought up dinner with Bella's parents. I told him about it like it was a big chore, almost impending doom. I used this exasperated tone of voice that suggested meeting her parents was the worst thing that could happen in our relationship, which it was. One of the worst things anyway. The other worst thing, I'd figured out, would be_ not_ meeting her parents.

"What's the big deal?" he said. "You just shake hands, tell them their house is nice, be polite, and answer their questions about college. And if you don't have answers, you make up some shit that sounds good."

"Make it up?"

"Yeah, you know, college plans that could be true. But if they don't turn out, you just changed your mind. People do it all the time."

The college question seemed easy enough. And I wouldn't even have had to make anything up. We'd had a discussion about our futures in Civics last year. Only about five students in the whole junior class knew what they wanted to do in life, and two of them were in my civics class. When Mr. Jenkins asked the question most gave the general lawyer, doctor, rockstar answers. And you knew none of this would happen, not with these kids. They just wanted to throw something out there. I don't know. I really thought about it. I felt like this was my future, and like it should mean something more than just tossing out bullshit. I thought of my dad. He runs his own graphic design business. I've been helping him on projects since I was fourteen. He let me design the logo for The March of Dimes 5K charity run last year. My design was a dime with arms and legs running, looking like a superhero, but no cape or anything. It was printed on thousands of brochures, fliers and T-shirts. I was pretty proud of that. So Graphic Designer was my answer. And as far as I knew, that was still my answer.

"You gonna do it?" He bit off a chunk of a wing.

"What?"

"Meet her parents."

I sat back in my seat. "You gonna talk to The Blonde?"

He nodded.

"Today's the day," I said.

Heading home, I was stopped at a red light across from the park where I took Bella on our first date.

I had already been feeling it inside whenever I saw her. A rush. In my gut. That night the rush was in full force. She looked so good. She had these thin braids, one on each side and tied together in the back. All the hair that wasn't braided was straight and smooth down her back.

It was already dark, and pretty windy by the time we got to the park.

She sat on the tire swing next to the slide and climbing tower, knuckling the chains as I spun her dizzy. "Get on," she said, her eyes trying to focus.

I shook my head and spun her around some more.

She put her foot down in the bark and stopped the swing. "Get in," she said again. So I got in with her, and honestly, across from her on the tire was the better place to be. It was a tight fit, her legs in between mine.

"Watch your knees," I said, taking her legs and bumping them together.

She laughed and pretended to knee me. Fake-out or not, I protected my crotch on instinct.

"Why no restaurants?" I asked, pushing off the ground to spin us, . She explained how she and Alice were out eating. She had spaghetti, Alice had pizza. "You know sometimes you have to slurp the spaghetti up and the pizza cheese is all stringy? Definitely not date food, right? So we started going through all the food we could think of and nothing was safe for a date. Not even salad. The lettuce gets stuck in your teeth. And I just thought, instead of being all awkward and sitting there talking about who you are while you're worried about something gross stuck in your teeth, you should go out and _do_ something and just _be_ who you are. Not worry about what you have to say or what you look like." She peered up at me. "You know?"

"Yeah."

She climbed out of the swing and shook the chain.

"You want to see something?"

I just stared at her for a few seconds. I _was_ seeing something.

"Come on." She took my hand and led me up a hill and into the woods behind the park. She said, "Close your eyes," and then she turned me around, away from her. "Now, open."

I looked down the hill. Through the trees, lampposts shone from the park below. Because the trees were dense, you couldn't see all of the lampposts, only a few sporadically. Little ovals of light filtered through branches. They glowed. And when the wind blew, the swaying branches made the light appear to flicker. "They're like..."

"Candlelight," she said all quiet and close to my shoulder.

"Yeah. Exactly."

She asked me, "Isn't this better than going out to dinner?" And I kissed her. It didn't register that I was moving her until I had her pressed against a tree. I put my hands on the trunk on either side of her head and looked down at her. Her chest was rising with each breath.

"What?" she asked.

"Candlelight." I shook my head.

"So?"

"You're trying to make me a romantic or something. Real sly, Bella."

"Maybe it's just me trying to be a romantic." She put her hands on my face. "Anyway, it's working, isn't it? A second ago I wasn't thinking about candles or that we're in a park or how cold it is out. Were you?"

"You're cold?" I rubbed her arms over her coat. And then I thought, _Why am I worried about how cold she is when she basically just asked me to keep kissing her?_ And so my mouth was on hers again. Her lips were definitely not cold, nor was her tongue. But when she put her hands under my shirt, her fingertips were freezing. I jumped back. We laughed. I took both her hands and put them under my shirt against my stomach. And yeah, cold or not, they felt good. But that wasn't why I did it. I did it to warm her hands. I couldn't stop worrying about how cold she was even when I tried. And then I knew. I knew. I had it bad for Bella.

She tucked her fingers into the waist of my jeans and lifted up on her toes to kiss me. I held her at her ribs under her jacket, but I didn't bend down very far right away while we kissed because I liked how she stood on her toes and held onto my jeans to steady herself. It was the first time she'd done that, but I liked it already.

I didn't try to hold her boobs, even though I wanted to, even though they were pressed to me, and my fingers stung to move to them. I didn't try it. I didn't want to be shot down. I'd noticed her breasts a lot. I couldn't count how many times I'd looked. And now I could feel them against my chest. Right there. And I resisted.

But it wasn't that many nights later when, in my car, my hands would move to her sides and then over her breasts, feeling. She didn't push me away. And then there was the day she came over after school, looked around my room, picked up this and that, and put it back. Then she sat on the edge of my bed and fucking looked up at me. I swallowed. I couldn't look away. I kept getting this image of her taking off her shirt. It wouldn't get out of my head even though I knew she definitely was not removing her shirt.

Without taking my eyes off her I shut the door behind me and locked it. Bella leaned back on her hands like she was waiting for me to climb on top of her. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, trying to figure out what was real and what was... hope.

_She's just sitting there. My bed is nothing but a place for her to sit. It's like a chair. _

I glanced at my desk chair. Empty.

"Um." I went to her; she was still looking at me. I bent over her and she fell back to her elbows. I pressed my hands into the bed, holding myself over her, and she still wasn't breaking eye-contact. She wanted this. I started kissing her. I kissed her until she was lying all the way down, and I was almost on top of her. I kissed down her face to her throat and back up to her lips as my hand roamed over her body, and slowly, came to rest on her breast, cupping over her shirt.

I took a breath, kissed her. Braced on my side, I slid my hand down, dipping under her shirt and moving my fingertips up along her skin. I felt lace and tucked my fingers under the top of her bra, grazing with my knuckles.

"Edward."

"Okay, okay," I said, my eyes closed, my lips on hers. I pulled my fingers out of her bra. "Sorry."

"No." She lifted her head to kiss me. "It's fine. I-I like it."

It was enough to make me start feeling her again, my hand cupping, following her curve. Her eyes closed and my mouth found hers. I kissed her. I touched her. I moved on top of her. She wanted it, and I sure as hell wanted it. My hips pushed against hers, and I thanked her with some kind of groan. Then there was the lifting off of her shirt, like I'd imagined, only she wasn't the one taking it off, I was.

I watched her face the whole time. Her eyes were kind of glassy, her lips slightly smiley and her eyebrows were not rising in any question. Kissing along the roundness of her breast above her bra, I turned her to her side so I could reach around for the clasp. Only I couldn't get it open, which was embarrassing, until she sat up to do it herself and let her bra slide off her arms, and I saw her naked chest, her necklace hanging down. I ran my fingers over both breasts and she arched toward me, so I just went for it, my mouth following the paths of my hands. She lay back again, me between her legs. I was already turned on, if you get what I'm saying, even before I shut the door. But now, hearing her moan as I was touching and kissing and licking her, I felt it like a spike from my stomach all the way to my head. I had to stop then. I had no choice.

After a few more kisses to her lips, I backed away, rolling over, looking up at the ceiling, catching my breath. She turned toward me on her side and rested her head on my chest. I ran my fingers through the ends of her hair and fuck if I couldn't have stayed there with her like that for the rest of the day and night.

...

At home I found Alice in front of the TV. With Bella. They were sitting there laying their heads together. I almost laughed at the way girls are with each other. You wouldn't catch guys acting that way. Bella sat up and turned toward me like she sensed me there. Our eyes locked before it seemed Alice even noticed I was in the room.

"Why did you let Jasper off the hook?" I asked.

Alice looked over at me. "I didn't let him off any hook. His neck is noosed to that hook."

"He said you-"

"You talked to Jasper?" She shot straight up, wide-eyed. I'd definitely disturbed their girl-time. "I told you not to. Now he'll know I've been talking about him. Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't." It was one of those lies you tell when the other person knows you're lying, and you know the person knows it. She tilted her head and rolled her eyes, but still, it got me out of having to answer her question.

"Hey, if he doesn't want to be with me, I don't want him with me. But he's going to be here for our baby. You can count on that."

I'm used to feeling confused, especially by girls, but this was the kind of confusion that left me feeling like I'd never be _un-_confused, like I'd never work out what the hell was going on between them. I decided to blame it on pregnancy because as far as I was concerned nothing was weirder than pregnancy. I mean, some tiny person growing and growing inside of a stomach and twisting a girl's hormones and even her brains all out of whack. Too weird. Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers shit.

Bella stood up and hugged Alice, saying she had to go. I took her wrist. "Wait. Can I talk to you?" I shifted my eyes to Alice. "Alone?" Alice took the hint and after a squeeze of Bella's hand, left the room.

"Bella." I picked up her other arm. Feeling her skin under my fingers made me run my thumbs back and forth on the insides of her wrists. There are some things you want to do and some things you have to do, and right then, I _had_ to caress her skin with my thumbs.

"You're talking to me."

"I'm a dumbass. They're just parents, right?"

"That's what I tried to say."

I gave her arms a slight tug and she stepped closer to me. "Does this mean you'll...?"

"Just say when."

She jumped on me and I stumbled backward about three or four steps until my back hit the wall. Just like my mind, my body remembered her. And reacted. Wrapped around me, she started kissing my neck saying "thank you" in between. With closed eyes I searched her lips, found them and kissed the breath right out of her.

My dad's throat-clearing interrupted us. I let Bella slide down, but didn't take my eyes off hers. That's something we can do, just stare at each other. I bet we could stare at each other for hours if we were alone and able to keep our hands and mouths to ourselves.

"Tomorrow," she said, wiping the corners of her lips. Man, I wanted them back on mine. "Bye Mr. Cullen," she said and then turned toward the front door, leaving me to adjust myself in front of my dad.

"Keep it safe," my dad said when she was out of earshot. He shook his head a few times like he had more to say. But what could he say? He knew "keep it caged" wouldn't work. He was my age once. Maybe he had a Bella. Maybe my mom was his Bella. And that was absolutely as far as I would go with that.

"Keep it safe," he said again.

"I do."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! :)


	5. Five

Two Weeks

Five

I got out of dinner with Bella's parents. Don't get me wrong, I still had to meet them, but I'd suggested that I just come over, let them "interrogate me," and leave. Not stick around for a meal or anything. It was still the impending interrogation that was making the act of swallowing harder and harder the closer it got to five.

Bella could tell. At school, she kept doing little things to try to make me feel better about it. She squeezed my hand in the hallway. At lunch she laid her head on my shoulder, her lips to my neck. She was making it worse. It was like her doing that, acknowledging my suffering and trying to relieve it proved that there was a reason to be nervous. Okay, "suffering" might be an exaggeration. But if there wasn't a reason to worry, she would've just laughed at me, told me to stop being ridiculous. I knew her.

After school I took her to the park. We climbed to the top of the climbing tower and made out until I was on top of her and the threat of going too far in public amplified like a heavy bass drumming, only Bella.

I sat up, leaning on my hand. Bella lay there looking up at me. She brought her fingers to my jaw. "An hour, maybe less, and it's over."

"I'm all right, _Moonshine_." That made her smile and seemed to convince her. It convinced me, too, for a little while. Sometimes you can lie to yourself without even knowing it.

She moved herself into my lap and pulled my arms around her. My hands pressed into her back, and I kissed her. "We should've gone to my house instead."

"This is safer." Her fingers pushed through the back of my hair. "Better than meeting them after sleeping with me."

She laid her head on my shoulder, just like she had at lunch. "I should go soon. I have to get home before them. And I need to practice for next week."

She had another audition with that piano instructor.

I'd gone with her to the first one. It was in the middle of the day over winter break. They made me wait outside. Even though the instructor taught the lessons at his house, he had people there working for him like he was some bigshot. They told me that the player didn't need the added pressure of an audience. If I was added pressure, I didn't mind waiting outside. Before I left her, I pulled her chain out from underneath her shirt and shook it.

"You got this. Easy."

It was raining. At least the patio had an overhang and a bench to sit on. Other people were around. Parents. Most of them waited in their cars. A couple were on the porch with me. None of us spoke to each other.

We could hear piano playing through the wall and we were all straining to hear. I recognized Bella's song when she started. She didn't make one mistake. Not from what I could tell, anyway.

After I heard a few others play, followed by a long silence, I watched her walk outside without a trace of a smile on her face. I thought that maybe this was one of those things you saw on TV when the person pretended to be all disappointed just to make you look like an idiot when you got sad for them and tried to cheer them up. I waited for her to blow up with excitement. But she wouldn't even look at me. She walked right past me toward my car parked down the street.

"You're shitting me," I said, catching up to her.

Walking ahead of me, eyes on the sidewalk, she shook her head.

"Doesn't he know talent?"

"That's just it, Edward." She turned around. "He knows talent."

"No, Bella." I pointed at her. "_You_ have talent. And you're only seventeen. I mean, think of when you're like, twenty-seven. That's his problem. He can't think ahead."

I didn't notice I was getting rained on, and I don't think she noticed it either. Both of us were wearing jackets with hoods. Both of us had our hoods down.

"No. It's that at least one person, probably more, auditioned who showed more promise than I did. It's that simple. Forget it, I'll try again. And until then, I still have Mary."

"Sure, a piano teacher who admits you're better than she is."

"That I have the potential to be better."

"No difference."

She looked too much like she was about to cry.

"You want me to- I'm going to kick his ass."

"Yeah."

"You want me to? 'Cause I will. You know I will."

She looked up at me, meeting my eyes. I hated what I saw in them, disappointment.

"Like a Samurai. Like Samurai Jack."

"More like Sailor Moon." Almost a smile.

"Why?" I laughed. "That supposed to be a cut?"

She shrugged, not completely one hundred percent cheered up yet.

"If I'm Sailor Moon, at least I'm hot, _Moonshine._"

And there was the smile, lips together, as if she were trying to fight it.

I held her hands and kissed her, rain dropping and dripping between our faces. I opened the car door for her.

She raised her eyebrows. "I should be a loser more often."

I took her to my house, brought her to my room, and attached my lips to hers.

My parents were still at work and wouldn't be home until six. We had at least an hour. You can do a lot in an hour.

My shirt was off first, but all of her clothes—except for her underwear—came off before anything else of mine had. She was lying back on my bed, her neck on my forearm, and she had a hold of my fingers like she didn't want me to move from that position. I kissed her and felt her naked breast, swept my thumb around her nipple, and ran my hand down her stomach. I pushed her legs apart, trailing my fingers up her thigh to the lace of her panties. I took my time, not knowing how she would react. My chest was pounding.

I'd had make-out experience, felt girls up, including Bella, but _this _I'd never done. I stopped kissing her, looked her in the eye and slipped my hand underneath her panties. I felt with my fingers, sometimes one finger, sometimes all of them. Her eyes were closing. She had a hard time keeping them open, and the wetter my fingers got, the more I had to kiss her. And as I kissed her while I had my hand down her underwear, her back arched and she pushed herself against my touch. Her hand that was holding mine over her shoulder squeezed. All of that was like, I mean, I didn't even have to _ask_ if she liked it, you know? I could tell. I could tell how much she liked it. So I slid a finger inside her and a noise came out of her mouth and went right into mine.

I whispered to her, "Bella?" And she nodded. So as she lay there, her knees spread apart, I kept touching her and kept kissing her until I felt her teeth on my lip and it was like she couldn't kiss anymore, and I felt on two fingers what happens when a girl comes. Her hand let go of mine and she dragged it down her chest and clutched her necklace.

I put my lips to her ear. "You okay?"

She smiled without opening her eyes. Even though there was a sheen of sweat over her body, there were also goosebumps.

I took off my jeans and climbed into my bed, holding the sheet open for her. I pulled her to my chest. I listened to her breathe, felt the rise and fall of each breath.

We didn't talk about what we'd just done, but I can guarantee we were both thinking about it.

When it got close to time for my parents to come home from work, she sat up and reached for her bra. I watched her put it on and fasten it behind her. It fascinated me how she could get the hooks in the right slots without even looking. Then she leaned back against the headboard like she needed a break. That was fine. Her staying in just her bra and panties was just fine with me.

I scooted closer to her and kissed her side. She was still a little sweaty and I liked that. I kissed again, sliding my mouth over her stomach.

"I like the way your stomach scrunches up when you sit like this."

"Edward!" She pushed my hand off her. "You can't tell a girl she has a scrunchy stomach."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did." She scooted all the way down, lying on her back again.

"I said I like the way it scrunches up. I didn't say it was scrunchy."

"Same thing."

"It is not."

"A stomach that scrunches is scrunchy."

"Fuck, whatever Bella. I like your stomach, okay? Kill me." I kissed her stomach again to make sure she knew I meant it, and then rested my head down on it. "Girls are crazy."

"Yeah." Her fingers were in my hair.

"Crazy."

"I know." She was scratching at my scalp and pulling her fingers through the ends of my hair, and then starting over again.

"I mean, stark raving mad."

"Probably."

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." I was looking at her legs. Her fingers froze in my hair.

"What?"

I turned my head to face her, my other cheek against her stomach. "I love you."

"Shh."

"Why?" I lifted my head.

She pulled on my shoulders to get me closer to her. She kissed me. Her voice was a whisper. "I love you, too."

"Why are you whispering?" I whispered on her mouth.

"I've never been in love before." That really didn't answer my question, but I kissed her anyway. My mouth open, pressing and pulling at her lips. Our tongues. My hands in her hair at either side of her head. This was the place to be, I thought. Right here.

That "I love you," it wasn't as random as it might have seemed. I'd thought about telling her as soon as I couldn't think about anything else but her. I almost said it to her a few nights earlier when we were at dinner. She let me take her to a restaurant and we talked about our lives. Mostly she talked. She was telling me about this calendar her parents have. It's the kind you tear a sheet from every day. Theirs is a Christian one with Bible verses on each page, and they take turns reading a verse at dinner. She said that the night before she'd read the one that went: _"Until the angels close my eyes, I can't imagine seeing life without you."_

She said, "I don't know why, because we do this all the time, but after reading that I got tears in my eyes. It's kind of sad and romantic at the same time. You know, thinking about love and death." She looked at me and I looked at her, and her eyebrows went up, and I didn't feel like talking about Bible verses. I didn't think she felt like it much, either. I almost said it then, but something in my gut tightened up. I just cleared my throat.

Then I thought about all the different meanings of throat-clearing. She had no idea what mine had meant, but she smiled anyway. Smiling back at her, I kicked at her feet under the table. She laughed all cute and tried to stomp on my toes, but missed as I pulled away from her.

"Come back," she said.

I put my feet back and she trapped one of them in between hers, and we finished our dinner like that, like we were chain-links.

…

And now I know, I thought as I knocked on their door, that if you're going to tell someone you love them, you'd better be ready to meet the person's parents.

The front of their house was lined with trees and bushes of different sizes. They were so round and full that their green or purple leaves covered the first-floor windows.

Bella's mom answered the door. Her eyes were brown like Bella's, but her hair was more blond. It was the kind of blond that you could tell wasn't natural.

"Nice to finally meet you," she said with a look that told me she knew I was the reason we hadn't met sooner. She held her hand out to me and I shook it.

"Nice to finally meet you, too," I said, as if something out of my control had prevented us from meeting sooner.

She offered to take off my jacket. I shrugged out of it.

Bella's house was filled with old furniture that her mom pointed to as if she was introducing them to me-the old writing desk against the wall behind the sofa; the sofa with fancy legs and covered in some sort of gold fabric; the lamp that hung from the ceiling; the antique piano. She explained to me where she'd found each of them with a sort of pride in her voice. I felt like I should say hello to them or something. I kind of waved low in case she expected something like that, and then I said, "Hi."

She laughed, so I thought I had done something right. I felt Bella's fingertips going up and down the inside of my arm. I looked at her. She was smiling. She thought I'd done something right, too.

"Hey!" A bouncy girl with hair longer and lighter than Bella's was in front of me. She barely came up to my chest.

"That's Bree," Bella said.

Bree looked me over. "You'll do." Her voice was high-pitched. I knew she was fourteen, but she sounded and looked more like twelve.

"I'll do?"

"Yeah, you're good enough."

"Cool." I smiled. At least one person here thought that. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Go play in your room, honey."

"I don't _play_ anymore, _Mom_." She was looking at me as she said that. I pointed to her mom at my right, just in case Bree was confused.

Bella shuffled through her bag and pulled out her iPod. "Here." She handed it to Bree. "Go write down all the songs you want and I'll upload them on yours later."

She took the iPod and skipped up the stairs, and then Phil walked in and shook my hand. He sat in a chair across from the sofa, Renee in a chair next to him. All eyes were on me, like I was the show they'd paid to see. I sunk to the sofa.

When Bella met my parents it wasn't this huge dramatic thing: she said hi, they said hi. My mom had this big smile on her face, and then Bella and I headed to my room and shut the door. That was it. Why, now, was everyone staring at me like I was trying to be elected president or something, like I needed all the right answers to all the questions in order to continue just living my life?

I looked over my shoulder at the staircase, wishing for my sole comrade to come back.

I turned back to Bella's parents. _Yep, still looking at me. _

I rubbed my hands on my jeans and started talking about what Emmett had suggested. I told them my college plans, my future graphic design plans, and I said it all too fast, so that when I was done there was nothing left to say. And I noticed I hadn't even waited for them to ask the question, which left what? Other questions?

"Following in your father's footsteps?" Phil asked, because I had mentioned my father and the running dime. But the way he had said it didn't sound right. He made it sound like I wasn't my own person or couldn't make my own decisions

"No." I leaned forward and then back again. "I mean, only because I like it. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't follow his footsteps."

"No harm in looking up to your old man," he said.

"Okay." I didn't know what else to say. He still didn't seem to really get it.

After a dragging silence, Bella's mom offered me a drink. A drink would give me something to do, but if that meant we'd all get drinks, then we'd all have something to finish, and this "interrogation" might be drawn-out longer than necessary.

"No, thank you," I said. "I'm fine."

She went into the kitchen and came back with a tray of glasses of Coke for everyone but me. So now they all had something to finish, and I had nothing to do.

She set out a cheese roll and crackers, too, a tiny silver knife stuck in the cheese.

"Um," I said. "I think I will take a drink."

"So you're not fine, then?" Phil asked with this look on his face that told me he was just giving me a hard time.

"Guess not." I rubbed my palms on my jeans again.

Renee got up for another drink.

Bella put her hand on my knee, and I looked at her. She smiled. I liked her smile normally. It was a beautiful smile, bright teeth, crinkling eyes. But these smiles that didn't seem to be around for anything other than reassurance were building on my nerves. I was starting to sweat as I forced a smile back at her.

When I turned to Phil, he was looking at Bella's hand on my knee. She took it off.

"You can have mine," Bella said, handing me her glass. "I'll take the new one." This was way better than the smile. I wanted to kiss her for giving me something to do with my hands. I took a big gulp, but not too big. I had to make sure mine lasted as long as everyone else's.

Renee was back by then and we all had drinks.

I leaned forward to set my glass on a coaster, and I caught Renee noticing my tattoo. Her expression changed faster than a few drops could turn into pounding rain around here. She made me feel like I was no longer the kind of person she wanted her furniture to know.

I closed my eyes for a second, thinking short sleeves was a mistake. I _had_ thought about changing into long sleeves before coming over. But I couldn't do it just to hide my tattoo. That tattoo is my uncle. It's me. A part of my skin. I wasn't going to hide it. But now, seeing the look on Bella's mom's face, I was starting to rethink my decision. Then I thought,_ fuck that_. I stretched my arm out to her so she could get a better look.

Pride's a killer. Sometimes, like a disease, it can't be stopped.

She screwed up her nose and mouth. "A gun?"

"It's a symbol to me."

She shook her head fast with that same tight look on her face. I couldn't guess what she was thinking, but I could guess she wasn't thinking: "Oh, what a sweet tattoo."

"I like symbols. Like Bella's pendants."

"Bella's necklace is removable," Renee said.

_And, I'm dead. _I pulled my arm back to my side and stared at the old dinged-up coffee table she got at an antique fair in Seattle. I contemplated telling her it was a temporary tattoo, that it would wash off with a little rubbing alcohol. But then I had this visual of Bella's parents actually getting me some alcohol to take it off with.

Why was I being judged over a tattoo I had a perfectly reasonable reason for having? And even if I didn't, even if I just goddamned liked the design, why should that say anything to them about who I am? It wasn't like I judged Mrs. Dwyer for dyeing her hair or wearing lipstick, or like I judged Mr. Dwyer for his thick beard. I got nothing from that other than he was obviously just a guy who liked beards. That was it.

It would've been really great if I had just thought all of that. But I didn't just think it. I said it. All of it. Well, except for the "goddamn" part. In hindsight, it would've been infinitely better if I'd said goddamn and left out all the rest.

I laughed.

"You think you're funny?" Phil asked.

"No."

"Dad," Bella said, and put her hand on my arm. "He doesn't think he's funny."

I turned to her. "Well, sometimes I think I'm funny. But not right now. This is the least funny I've been all week."

That made Bella laugh. Just a breath of a laugh out of the corner of her mouth.

"I can see you're a respectful young man," Phil said, full of sarcasm. I cleared my throat to hide a laugh. "Bella wears makeup. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. I didn't mean I have a problem with makeup. Or beards. I just meant that there isn't that big of a difference between those and tattoos, is there? Just another form of expression. Um... is it hot in here?" I tugged at the neckline of my shirt. Bella handed me my Coke and I finished it off without thinking.

Maybe Renee was just trying to change the subject. Maybe she had some sympathy for me and this was her way of bailing me out. But she asked how Alice was doing. That's not typically a question you ask someone whose sister isn't going through something like a pregnancy. Under normal circumstances, she might have asked. "Hey, how's Alice?" But that wasn't what she said. She said, with her head tilted and her voice worried, "How's Alice doing?"

"Fine," I said, leaning back against the sofa.

"I don't know about your family," Phil said. "But her situation is exactly why we're so adamantly against premarital sex."

I nodded, trying really hard not to crack a joke about STDs. Not that I thought STDs were funny, just that there was obviously more to worry about than pregnancy when it came to sex. I wanted to comment on how dramatic he'd sounded.

"So?" Phil said.

"So... what?"

"Your family doesn't discuss these kinds of things, I take it?"

I wondered if I should tell him about my dad saying, "Keep it safe," but thought better of it. "Not - not regularly. Lately we've been talking about baby supplies. And um, bricks." I stopped myself then, before I started spilling about how my mom was sure they were being stolen. I could feel a bead of sweat dripping down my arm and caught it with the back of my knuckle. "My mom's birthday, it's... in a few days."

"Such a shame more family's aren't open to such important talks with their children."

"Yes," I said. "A shame." I shook the ice around in my glass wondering how much longer this had to go on.

"Other families," he said, but I could tell by his tone of voice that by "other families" he meant my family, "may be nonchalant about sexual promiscuity. But we are not."

"Okay," I started to say, but cut myself off with, "We're not promiscuous. Just because-"

"Dad, you promised."

Phil held up a hand to her. "We're a family of faith. I'd like any boy who wants to date a daughter of ours to understand what this means."

"Maybe Edward could come to church with us sometime," Renee said.

I laughed low and shifted.

Phil was too stuck on his own tangent to acknowledge Renee's comment or my reaction.

"We won't tolerate any pressure placed on our daughter," he said.

"Pressure?" I asked. It wasn't meant to be a question. It was meant to be a denial, like, "How could you even suggest that?" Obviously it came out more like a question.

"Regarding sex," he said, with a raise of his eyebrows that implied I was an idiot for not understanding where he was leading me. "Bella has made her standards on the issue very clear to her mother and me."

I looked at Bella. "I didn't pressure you, did I? I never thought-"

"No, Edward." She raised her eyebrows at me. I rubbed my forehead wondering what was up with this family and their eyebrows.

"She's a junior. You're a senior. We don't need a kid with experience coming along and taking advantage of our daughter."

"What the...?" I scooted away from Bella a little. What the fuck was he implying? Was this all because of my tattoo, or did it have to do with Alice? The hard to swallow thing was back. Like a strangling tie that couldn't be loosened. I couldn't take the judgement. "I was still a virgin when I met _your daughter_." I closed my mouth and sat back fast like I'd been shot. But if I had been, I was the one who had pulled the trigger. And now the gun was cocked again and in the hands of my enemy. I laughed, my hands in fists. I knew I messed up. And I knew how bad. I turned to Bella who was eyeing her lap.

"Bella?" I no longer gave a shit about Phil or Renee. I was worried about Bella, my heart flying. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Stop."

"I think I've heard enough for one evening," Phil said.

"With all due respect," I said. I'd heard my dad say it and thought it sounded adult, which was what I needed right then. I knew that much. "I was speaking to Bella."

"With all due respect?"

"Look. I mess up sometimes, and she knows this. You know this, right, Bella? Tell him."

She scoffed. "He messes up sometimes, obviously. But he means well."

"Yeah. I mean well."

"You mess up but you mean well, you say? Are you willing to chance messing up in the way your sister messed up?"

"Dad! This isn't why he's here."

"An apology won't make that one better. I'm sure Alice would agree."

"She probably would," I said. "But I'm not her. And I love - I love-" I felt my eyes burning.

Renee said my name like she cared, but she said nothing else after. I didn't bother looking at her.

Bella stood up. "Okay, come on." She pulled on my sleeve.

I followed her to the door, grabbing my jacket from the ancient coat rack.

"Isabella Marie Swan," Renee said. "Don't think about going anywhere."

Bella didn't answer, but as she walked me out to my car, I imagined her turning around and shooting both of them the finger. That was something I would've really liked to have seen.

When we got to my car, she turned around on me, squinting against the sun. "Are you crazy? I know you say things without thinking sometimes, but that." She aimed a stiff hand at her house. "I never would've thought in a million years you'd say something like that. Do you know what that's going to do? First, they're going to kill me." She pointed all her fingers at her chest and nodded like a crazy person. "And then, after I'm dead, they're going to make my _ghost _stay away from you. Or all boys probably."

"Not me, Bella." I took both of her hands and brought them up to my chest. "You've gotta talk to them. Look, I swear. Tell them we won't have sex anymore. And who cares about other guys? Just me. We won't have sex. And you can be with me. Tell them."

"Like they'll believe that."

"It's true. I'll keep my hands off you, but if they, if they keep you away from me." I was choking up. I stopped to take in a breath through my nose, tears filling my eyes. I'd never cried in front of her. I hadn't cried in front of anybody since I was about seven. I let go of her hands.

"I'm not promising something like that. I don't want to. It's not a promise I want to keep. Do you?"

"Tell them I'll go to church with them sometime, then."

"You'd do that? Really?"

I didn't answer. I just stared down at her.

"You're not laughing."

"I laugh when I'm nervous, not when I'm fucking sad, Bella."

That was when tears met her eyes too.

She reached up and dried my face with the edge of her sleeve. "Okay, okay. I'll try to talk to them." She hugged me, and I hugged her back. "I'll try."

"I knew I was going to mess this up." I pressed my hand into her hair, grasping it. I took a whiff of her. I kissed her face a few times. "I love you. Tell them I love you."

When she pulled back, I picked up her necklace, fisting the pendants. I gave them a tug. "Take it off."

"What?"

"I want it."

She pulled it over her head, handed it to me, and I pulled it over mine. I kissed her. Then I searched myself, but I had nothing. I pulled out my phone.

"I don't have anything to- wait." I took my jacket off and draped it over her shoulders.

"But it's cold out."

I crossed my arms in front of me and shrugged. "Keep it."

She slipped her arms through the jacket and then wrapped my neck, pulling my face to her shoulder. "I love you," she said.

I kissed up her throat, over her chin to her lips, my hands at her ribs, holding tight, until Phil's voice called her name.

"Bella." I squeezed tighter at her waist like I wasn't going to release her.

"I have to go."

I watched her walk away, my jacket sleeves hanging past her hands. Phil held the door open and then closed it behind her like the house was swallowing her up. I stood there staring at the closed door for a long time before I got in my car.

I pushed tears from my face, pounded the steering wheel, and took off.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading. :)

Thank you to my super fast and supportive beta, myimm0rtal, and to thimbles and dreaminginnorweigen for the WCs.


	6. Six

Two Weeks

Six

Dinner at my house was weird. And not because of brick-talk or baby-talk, but because of me and the constant lump in my throat and this pain between my eyes that made me squint at everything.

All I could do was sit there chewing on one piece of dry turkey for way too long, thinking about Bella. Checking my phone. Hoping to hear something from her.

When I swallowed, I had to work, nostrils flaring, to get the chewed up turkey down.

Everyone else was acting normal. Well, normal for our family.

"Dad?" Alice said.

He looked up. She wagged a wishbone, leaned across and put it on his plate. That was their thing. They always made a wish, and together they would pull the bone apart. My dad stared at the bone for a little while, cleared his throat, and then picked it up. He held it out for her. She took hold of her side. They both closed their eyes.

"Got your wish?" Dad said.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yes."

They opened their eyes. Alice counted to three, they pulled. Alice won.

I could feel her looking at me, so even though I didn't feel like it, I played along.

"What was-" I started but my voice was too raw. I cleared my throat. "What was your wish?" That was my role in the stupid game. I've been asking every time she won since I was six and she was five. The answer was always the same, "I can't tell you or it won't come true."

Tonight, though, she said, "That Dad would play." She dropped her gaze to her plate and then looked up at our dad. He had a small, almost high-looking smile on his face, eyes glassy. He wasn't high. Those were tears in his eyes.

"But that was before you played," I said. "What about while you played?"

"I can't tell you or it won't come true."

"Is something the matter, Edward?" my mom asked. "Do you have a headache? There's acetaminophen in the-"

"Can I go upstairs?"

I figured Alice must've known more about me and what went on today than she let on because when I left the table, she didn't complain about being stranded with the dishes. I didn't know if she just sensed it because she knew me well, or if she'd talked to Bella. Whatever the reason, I was glad she was silent as I walked away from the table and headed to my room.

So here I am, sitting on my bed, bouncing my handball against the wall. I like the monotony of it. The boom against the wall, the bump to the floor, the landing in my hand. And again. And again. I don't drop the ball, don't change the rhythm. I've had enough change recently. I'm ready for sameness. Just wish this sameness involved Bella and not a ball.

I throw the ball at the wall, catch it.

This time, what's going on is worse than what went on a week ago. Back then I'd had some control over the outcome, it being my decision and everything to meet Bella's parents. But now it's completely out of my hands.

I throw the ball at the wall, catch it.

I used to spend a lot of time thinking about myself. Even when I was falling for Bella, even after I loved her, I thought about what she did to me, what I felt like when she was around, what I wanted her to do to me. But now, with things the way they are, I'm thinking about her, not only in relation to me, but I'm worried about her, about what I started at her house. The fallout. What is she dealing with at home? At one point my imagination gets away from me and I imagine her step-dad beating her. I don't have any reason to think he'd do something like that, but still, I imagine this to the point that I almost believe it. I almost throw on the jacket I don't have because she has it and head over to their house just to make sure she's okay, and to kick his ass for laying a hand on her.

I throw the ball at the wall, and let it bounce until it rolls away. I swipe my phone from my pocket.

She doesn't answer. I leave a message for her to at least text me if she can't call me.

When she's upset, she likes to slide her fingers through the top of her hair and grasp onto it at the crown of her head. She freezes like that for a little while, then lets it all fall. I wonder if she's doing this now.

I lie back on my bed tugging the chain around my neck. Her chain. I remember watching her while she slept. My chin on my crossed hands, I watched the way her eyeballs moved behind her eyelids. Sometimes she would part her mouth and then close it back up. Her lips turn up naturally even in her sleep and I once stared so long I noticed how her nose was slightly crooked. I ended up kissing the end of it, accidentally waking her up.

I remember giving her a hard time once for watching me sleep. Just because I'd caught her. As far as I know, she hasn't caught me yet.

Bella does this thing where she nibbles on my ear. She'll move her teeth all the way up to the top and then down to the bottom, and kind of tug on my earlobe. I can't get enough.

It's not like she's biting me, she just grazes with her teeth and follows the tug with her tongue.

That was all she had to do and I was a goner.

Or that was what I thought, until the night she lifted my shirt, kissed my chest, and slowly went down my stomach. So slow, all I could do was lie there facing the ceiling while my heart went wild in my chest. When her mouth was at the top of my jeans she slid a finger under the waistband and ran it back and forth along my skin there, bringing her face back up to mine with this smile. This smile.

"Damn, Bella."

Her smile grew wider.

"I think we should just do it," I said, turning her over so I was on top of her, probably with some strange grin on my face, half-closed lids that would freak her out and make her say no way. I was kind of just kidding, even though I wasn't. I wanted to do it. But the way I said it was the joke because that wasn't very romantic, and having a sister, I knew how girls like guys to say romantic things, probably, especially the first time, and especially since it was New Year's eve. Everyone was out, and Bella and I had planned on going to a party, right after we finished making out. So you could say I was pretty shocked when Bella put her fingers to my neck and said, "Okay." She raised her eyebrows right after in that way she does when she asks a question. This made it obvious to me that her answer was more of a question. I ran a finger along one of her eyebrows.

"Really?"

She kissed me, a quick one on my lips. "I've been thinking about it. I want to."

I watched her eyebrows. They didn't rise that time.

I kissed her, not a quick one, but not slow either. It was a hard, deep, thankful kiss.

I undressed her, dragging my lips over her body. When our clothes were gone, I hovered over the top of her and looked down at her. I kissed the side of her mouth, her cheek, and then under her jaw. I kissed her neck, her throat, all along her collarbone, which made her squirm. I kissed and touched as much of her body as I could for as long as I could, and I wish I could say I did more, but there was only so much I _could_ do before my time was up.

I put a condom on and then paused for a few seconds before I moved between her legs and tried to guide myself in. I must've missed the spot the first time, so I felt with my fingers so I knew exactly where to go, and then I was in and my stomach tightened and my vision blurred.

I made this quick, low "Mm" sound, and she made this gasp sound that made me freeze because it wasn't one of her regular "this feels good" gasps. Her head was pressed into her pillow, her neck arched. I kissed her neck a few times, and chanced moving my hips.

My eyes closed, everything black and gone.

Not thinking of anything anymore, I kept going.

Maybe it was the way she ran her fingernails over my shoulders and down my back. The way she clutched on around my waist, pinching skin. I pushed into her just four times. Four times. Four and a half if I'm being generous to myself. But that was it before I was done. Pulsing all over.

Dropping my head to her shoulder, a few groans came from my chest and throat. "Bella." I waited there catching my breath. I'd been squeezing her thigh without noticing, and let go, rubbing a little.

I wasn't thinking about this right then. Right then I was thinking about how her body felt under me. How sex with her felt like a fucking detonated bomb. And even that, I wasn't so much_ thinking_ it, as just _feeling _it. But later I thought it would be nice if the first time wasn't actually the first time. If the very first time was a practice round, and then you got your actual first time after that.

Even so, as quick as it may have been, somewhere in between the time we decided to do it and I finished, midnight had passed us by and we hadn't even noticed. We'd started in 2012 and finished in 2013. And if you thought about it like that, even if it had only lasted a few minutes, I didn't roll off of her until the next year.

She settled up against me, her head on my shoulder, and she didn't say anything, didn't complain. In fact, she kissed my cheek and my jaw, her lips dragging over me until I fell asleep.

I woke up to her sitting there looking down at me. She was wearing my T-shirt.

I flashed her a sleepy grin. "Are you watching me sleep?"

"No." I could tell she was fighting her smile.

"Yes, you are."

"You're pretty to look at." She placed a finger on my lips. I held her hand and kissed her fingertip.

"Pretty?" I rolled to my side, resting my head on my fist.

"Not pretty, pretty. But pretty like art." She twirled the finger I'd kissed through some hair at the top of my head. When she pulled away, I imagined she left my hair in a point up there so I scrubbed a hand back and forth over my head.

She put her palm to my chest and pressed.

"But you do have beautifulness inside you."

"Stop."

"Why?"

I took her hand from my chest, closing my fingers over hers. "Stop, stop, stop," I said, drawing her to me for a kiss.

Still, her saying that after what happened earlier felt pretty good.

She shivered in my arms. Cold. She gets cold so easily.

I pulled the sheets back. "Come on, _Moonshine._ Get under the covers."

...

I still haven't heard from Bella and I realize I can feel my insides. They feel tighter, like they don't fit right the way they're crammed into me. Sore, the way muscles feel after a hard game of one-on-one. Now I know that when the person you love is gone, you actually feel the love more because it has nowhere else to go but inside you. And you can't stop it or shut it off so it just builds and builds until it hurts.

I look at my tattoo and the pain it represents. My uncle would probably laugh at my thoughts right now. He'd tell me to grow thicker skin. But I'd say to him, I'd tell him that thin or thick, it didn't matter—sharp enough blade, deep enough scratch, no matter what the weapon, skin breaks. Nobody can really put rules on pain. If it hurts it hurts.

Looking for a way out of this feeling, I end up agreeing to spend my Saturday night in the car with my mom looking for bricks.

She says the whole top layer is missing now. I tell her it looks fine to me as I follow her to her car. Truth is, I didn't really look.

"You're so unobservant," she says.

She tosses the keys to me and gets into the passenger seat. She wants me to drive her around the neighborhood so she can look for other houses that have bricks like ours. She wants to see if any of them look like they have missing bricks, or maybe even extra bricks. If this wasn't typical of my mom I'd blame her behavior on Alice's pregnancy.

At the end of our street she points for me to turn left. Hand over hand I turn the wheel, rounding the corner.

"It's just like that time your bike was stolen," she says.

Except it isn't anything like that. She thinks the bricks were stolen because the gaps between them appear wider. When my bike was stolen, the garage door was left open and the bike was gone. Unless the bike had the sudden ability to be invisible, there was no question that it was stolen.

"How are things with you and Bella?" she asks.

I don't answer. I don't want to get into it but I don't want to lie about it either. "Which way?" I ask, pulling up to a stop sign.

"Right," she says. "You didn't answer my question."

"You're not even looking for bricks." After I say this she turns her head toward her window.

"I can talk and look at the same time. I want to know what my son's been up to."

Somehow, with her looking away from me, it's easier. "Her parents hate me." I swallow.

She turns back to me. "I'm sure that isn't true."

"It is," I say. "It's true."

She squeezes my knee. "Anyone who hates you doesn't know you. Should I give her mother a call?"

I feel myself smile. It's the first real smile I can remember since... actually, I can't remember exactly when my last real smile was.

"No." I miss the days when a phone call from my mom could fix things.

"We'll invite them to dinner."

I think of how that might help, but also what a disaster it could be.

After thirty minutes of driving around, and me saying we're going to run out of gas looking for bricks, my mom lets me take us home.

I hand over the keys and follow her back into the house. She pauses with a finger to her chin, pondering the bricks.

"Come on, Edward," she says. "Look. Don't they look fewer to you?"

So I look, and yeah, I have to admit they don't look right. The entire top row is missing, just like she said.

"Yeah," I say. "It doesn't look like your sign's been working. Should we pull it out?" The sign is one of those you stick into the lawn. It's red with the outline of white, beady eyes, and white lettering that reads:_ We're watching you._

"Not yet."

We head inside.

I toss my sweatshirt on my bed, go to the bathroom to take a piss, and then back in my room I fish my phone from my pocket, checking, just in case I missed something.

Nothing.

Alice's voice comes at me through the wall. "I hate the way it smells after a boy goes pee in here!"

"Strawberry-scented?"

"Yeah. Huge, hairy, rotten strawberries."

I don't do anything for the next few hours. I put a movie on, but don't watch it unless something blows up and the sound catches my attention. At eleven forty-five, I decide to go to Bella's and throw rocks at her window or something. The wait, the not knowing anything is choking me.

I get out of my car and look up at her house. I don't even know which room is hers. The one window at the top looks too big, so I assume that's her parents' room. I like that the light is off, that it seems all lights are off. I wonder if I can get around the back of the house unnoticed. I check out one side of the street and then the other. Nobody's around, but the street lamps are too bright. They're practically like spotlights. I could never be a burglar.

I take a chance, go around the side yard.

Rustling comes from the tree in front of me like there's an animal wrestling with the branches. A body all in black drops out of it. Bree straightens herself up, wiping her pants off.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh!" She waves her hand in front of her. "What does it look like, Einstein? I'm sneaking out."

"Do you really think you should be wandering around alone at night? And dressed like... a ninja?"

"Give me a ride."

"No chance. I'm in enough trouble. Go back inside." I nod toward the house. "And don't say anything about seeing me here."

"Got a ten?" She holds her hand out gesturing for me to give her a damn ten.

"You're bribing me?"

She shrugs. "You're ruining my night so..."

"Nah. You go in. Say nothing about me, and in exchange, I say nothing about you trying to sneak out at midnight."

"I changed my mind about you."

"Yeah? I'm used to it."

"You're not good enough."

"Because I won't help my girlfriend's sister sneak out?"

"No. Because you made my sister cry."

"She cried?" I take a step forward and almost actually grab her arm. I shove my hands in my pockets.

"Practically all night."

I shake my head and rub my forehead. Does this mean she couldn't make her parents listen?

"She isn't here, you know?"

I glance over at their driveway, and yeah, there's only one car there and it isn't hers. "Where is she?"

"How should I know?"

"Tell her I'm sorry, OK?"

"Why'd you let them railroad you?"

"Railroad me?"

She tells me she was listening from the stairs, heard everything. "They made this huge thing about meeting you, right? I know. I heard Bella's fights with them."

"She fought with them?"

"She tried to tell them to stay out of it. But that only made it worse. And then you come and let them trick you into sabotaging yourself."

"They tricked me." I nod, thinking about this. I sabotaged myself, and Bella, there's no doubt about that, but I did fall into some trap, didn't I? I take a few steps backward like I've been struck. I should've expected something like that, should've been more prepared. Emmett had made it sound so easy.

"They were just being them. I've seen them trick Bella before too, like with this whole thing about you. She made them promise not to make you nervous. And look what they did. They're not going to trick me. Not ever."

"Okay," I say, smiling a little, because she gets it. Parents are tricky. I know this, I've said it. But they'll trick her eventually. I have no doubt about that. "You'll trick them more than they'll trick you." That's also true. Tonight is proof of that. "Go back inside."

She turns toward the house and for some reason I stop her with a "Hey," which could turn out to be a huge mistake because she finally agreed to go in, and here I am giving her the opportunity to change her mind. "I'm sorry. For making your sister cry."

I watch her climb the tree back up to her window. She doesn't wobble once and it's clear she's done this before. She knows exactly where to step.

I sit on the curb and wait awhile. For Bella to get home. To make sure Bree doesn't try to sneak out again.

Neither happens.

On my way home, passing by Jasper's house, I spot Bella's car parked at the curb. I slam on the brakes in the middle of the street, idling. The light's on in his room over the garage. I can make out two shapes up there. I cock my head for a better view and watch their shadows.

_What is she doing there?_ _In his room?_ I check the clock on the dash. _At 12:18 AM?_

_School_, I tell myself as I drive off. They're lab partners. It's some project.

Of course I know that tomorrow's Sunday and they'd have all day to work on homework if they need it, and I know there isn't much work that can get done after midnight. But I believe it anyway. I don't think about what a guy who's going through shit with his girlfriend would be doing with another girl in his room. I can't.

It's Bella.

My chest tightens.

It's just school.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading, and for all the reviews, rec's, tweets.

Two more chapters to go. :)


	7. Seven

Two Weeks

Seven

Bella shows up at my house. Everyone else is out, shopping for things like breastpumps, and that word alone was enough to make me stay home.

I stare at her for a little while. She's wearing one of those low-cut shirts, and my eyes don't linger there for even a tenth of a second. I'm looking at her eyes, looking for tears or happiness or something, some sign, but I don't know what I'm seeing. I pull her inside.

"Is everything okay?" I can feel her fingers on my side.

"Oh, yeah, everything's great. If you consider having my phone being taken away and me having to sneak out to come over here great."

I ask her how she sneaks out on a Sunday in the middle of the day.

"They're all at church. I told them that as long as I was grounded, I wasn't going anywhere. Not even to church with them."

"Guess I'm wearing off on you." It comes out a little more bitter than I intend, but I can't help it. I'm sure everything Bella does that goes against her parents is something they'll pin on me.

"I told them it wasn't you. Or I tried. They think they know me better than I know me."

"But they seriously grounded you for having sex? It's not like..." But I don't know what it's not like. It's not like it will change things, or that she'll never have sex again.

"Yep. And they won't tell me for how long. They're trying to figure out a 'proper punishment for my rebelliousness.'" She changes her voice at the end to sound like annoying parents. "And Alice showed up yesterday. She was all upset over Jasper but I didn't really get to talk to her because my dad made her leave. They tell me to be careful with Alice because she has a _different heart_." Her voice cracks and her lips shake, and now I know exactly what I'm seeing in her eyes.

"Oh, fuck." Shaking my head, I put my arms around her. "Don't tell Alice that."

She settles her head against my chest. "I wouldn't. I won't."

"Wait." I let go of her. "When did they ground you?"

"The same night. The night you came over."

"But you were at Jasper's last night."

"What?"

"You were in his room."

"No I wasn't."

I narrow my eyes and kind of look at her sideways. "So someone else had your car and parked it at Jasper's? I mean, since you weren't there..."

"Edward-"

I'm already walking away from her, heading to the stairs.

"Edward." She tugs on my arm.

I look around the living room like I don't recognize it. I'm not really seeing it, but I don't want to look at Bella right now.

"I was at Jasper's."

"Yeah. I know. Why would you lie?"

"I wasn't in his room."

"I saw you, Bella."

"You saw _me_?" She points to her chest. "In Jasper's room. What do you think I was doing in there?"

"You tell me."

"No, Edward. What do you think I was doing with Jasper in his room?" She folds her arms and cocks her head.

"I didn't think anything until you lied about it. Now I don't know what to fucking think. So just tell me."

She frowns. "I didn't lie." She rubs my arm and I look down at her hand running along my tattoo. She squeezes. "I wasn't in his room. Alice was. I was waiting in the kitchen. They're being idiots, your sister and him." She lets go of my arm. "She won't talk to him. He won't even _try_ to talk to her. Even last night. I thought I'd do that close them up in a room thing so they had to talk. They didn't. And Alice was all silent-crying when I drove her home."

My hands turn into fists at my side. "Fucking Jasper. What's his problem? I swear, if I see him, I'm gonna-"

"You have to tell Alice that Jasper loves her."

I give her a look that says she's crazy, that there's no way in hell. "I'm not telling her that."

"And I'll tell Jasper that she loves him. And that'll get things on the right track."

I shake my head. "I don't know if she loves him."

"She does."

"How are you sure?'

"Because I am. I know. She's just mad at him. But requited love is powerful, you know? Knowing that the person you love loves you back? It gives you a reason to fight for it." She steps closer to me. "After you left on Friday, I couldn't think about anything but you. And then Alice came over all upset, and that made me think about love, and it's just too sad when two people in love can't make it work because of something stupid."

I look at her for a minute. I know what she's saying. "Yeah. Yeah. I get that."

"And think about all they're going through. Imagine if that was us."

I put a hand on the back of the sofa. That is something I don't want to imagine.

She takes another step closer, her feet between mine, and she picks up both my hands, lifting them between us, flattening our palms together, closing her fingers between mine.

"Where is everyone?" She glances at the front door like maybe she thinks everyone will just come barging in right now. But then when her eyes are on me again, I know that look. She's rising to her toes, and I know that move. As my face gets closer to hers I tell her they all went out to Port Angeles.

I wrap my arms around her and our lips meet and I just start kissing her. I bump into a side table, backing her to the wall. I press myself against her, my hips rubbing hers as I lower my mouth to her neck. And then I just hug her tight around her waist, my nose to her shoulder. I rub her back, and her hands go up under my shirt. I let out a sigh.

"We aren't finished yet," Bella says, still in my arms.

"With what?"

"Alice and Jasper."

"You want to talk about my sister right now?" I pull back a little.

"I have to go talk to Jasper and still beat my parents home."

"You're doing too much for that asshole."

"I'm doing it for Alice." She tilts her head, this time not in anger but in some kind of hope, like she wants me to understand or agree.

"Okay." I cup her face and kiss her again.

After making out against the wall a little longer, I lead her by the fingers up to my room.

"I can't," she says. "There's not enough time."

"Shh." I close my door behind us.

"Edward, I have like five minutes."

I pull her to the bed with me. "Bella. Shh." I lie facing her, tucking my leg between hers, holding her. I kiss her cheek. "Five minutes."

I can feel her smile on my jaw. She tucks her head against my shoulder and we lie body to body until the last second before she has to go.

I decide to take her to Jasper's just to have as much time with her as I can. I wait in the car under the overcast afternoon sky while she knocks on the door. I'm thankful for his dark-shadowed porch. I can't trust what I might do if I have to see his face right now.

She doesn't go inside. She talks to him on the porch and then comes back to me.

"You should've seen his face when I told him," she says, closing the door. I drive off. "There was like relief all over him. He looked like a little kid for a second."

I don't know how to respond to that. I still don't think Jasper's good enough for Alice.

"He's going to talk to her, but she needs to be in a state of mind where she'll listen."

"She doesn't listen much these days. She talks mostly."

"Talk to her. Tell her that Jasper told you he loves her."

"Why would Jasper tell me that and not her?"

"It doesn't matter. As long as she hears it. Then, when he talks to her, she'll be ready to listen."

Back at my house I walk Bella from my car to hers and kiss her before she leaves. With my forehead against hers I ask, "If you're grounded and your parents hate me, when do I get to see you?" I know there's no way we're not seeing each other, so it's just a question of how and when.

"At school tomorrow."

"And then?"

"I don't know. I'll still work on my parents."

With one hand in my pocket and the other holding her chain around my neck, I watch her drive away.

I do it. When Alice gets home and while our parents are taking trips to and from the car unloading packages, I tell her what Bella wants me to tell her and I hope it isn't a mistake. Alice laughs. I don't laugh. I try really hard not to. I just stare at her like I've never been more serious about anything ever. She finally stops laughing and her face falls serious and her eyes start tearing up.

"When did he say this?"

Now I let out a laugh. Sorry, but I wasn't expecting that question. "Why does that matter?"

"Why wouldn't it matter? When was it? Today? Yesterday? Last week? Last month? When?"

Okay, now I get her question. I turn and pace the length of the room between the TV and the coffee table trying to buy some thinking time. And then I just let out another lie.

"Today." I watch her smile through tears, and I feel like this might be right. "Give him a call."

She runs upstairs, I guess to get her phone. "He's already called me, Edward! I missed his call!"

Heading up the stairs, I wonder if Bella ever acts like that when I call her.

Leaning against my sister's doorjamb, I stuff my hands in my pockets. She's really smiling, the phone pressed to her ear and her hand on the small curve of her belly. "Jasper!" The first word is a shout, the next are only a breath, "I still love you." She giggles. She pulls the phone from her face and whispers to me, "We said it at the same time." Back into the phone she says,"Wait, wait, shh. Listen, I love you." There's a pause. "I want you here, too."

I smile at her and walk out.

I think of what Bella said about fighting for love, and how she was right, which leads me to think of what her parents said about Alice. It's bullshit. Her heart is no different. It's better, as far as I'm concerned. I grab my keys and take off.

I don't bother calling Bella since she probably still doesn't have her phone. I do call Emmett though and I tell him to get his ass to the diner and not to order any food or drinks, and I tell him not to leave until he's asked The Blonde out.

"She wants you," I tell him. "And don't freak her out by standing there staring at her. _Talk_ to her."

I'm running on adrenaline all the way to Bella's, even when I bang on the door, but when Phil answers and I'm face to face with him, I can't think of what to say. I can hear Bella playing piano in the background, and even though I just saw her a few hours ago, I need to see her now. The need is strong enough that I find my voice.

"I want another chance. I screwed things up last time, but I want another chance. Don't you - I mean, don't Christians believe in second chances?"

Stoic-faced, he opens the door wider and invites me in.

Bella turns from the piano over on the other side of the old sofa. Her eyes widen when she sees me. I like the smile that follows. I smile small back at her.

"Keep playing."

She goes back to it.

Phil calls Renee and when she comes in the piano stops, and we all take seats in the living room with glasses of Coke just like before, only without the cheese and crackers. And this time it all goes smoother because I know to say yes to the Coke offer right away rather than making her mother go back for another one later.

"Railroad," Bree says, hopping up on the arm of the sofa.

"Ninja," I say and can't help but smile until I feel all the other eyes on me. I clear my throat.

First, I hold my arm out and explain the tattoo. I tell them about my uncle. "See what it is? Yeah, it's a rifle, but it's also a snake and it's going after itself. It's going to eat itself. And the snake or the serpent in the Garden of Eden, right? It's Satan. It's evil. That's what this tattoo says. That guns, shooting, war, you know, that it's wrong." I raise my eyebrows at them the way they're all always doing it.

They're silent.

"And - and, I love your daughter. Bella." I hold her hand. "I love her. I respect her, and I want her to go far with piano. If that's what she wants and if it isn't then I don't either. I mean-" I close my eyes for a second because I'm starting to ramble and I might not be making much sense, and I'm afraid I might start laughing. "What I'm trying to say is I want her to be happy. And right now, she's happy with me." I turn to her. "Aren't you?"

She nods. "Yes. And I'm unhappy without him."

I sit back and wait for either of Bella's parents to say something. Neither say a word, and their expressions don't change. Maybe that's a good thing. They don't soften up and smile, but they don't get squinty-eyed and tight-lipped either.

"Don't you want her to be happy?"

"We also want her to be safe," Renee says.

"I'm not going to hurt her." I lean forward, arms on my knees and look her right in the eye when I say it. I mean it. I think about telling them I won't get her pregnant either, but I don't want the conversation going down that road again.

Renee's eyes shine up a little. It seems to me that they're watery.

Dropping my gaze to the table, I notice that this time none of us have touched our Cokes.

"My parents want to invite you to dinner." I just blurt it out, but then I think their answer will tell me a lot more than their silence does.

"When?" Renee asks. And that's not a rejection, so I make up more.

"Tomorrow."

"Should we bring anything?"

I tug at my shirt. "No. My mom wouldn't want you to bring anything. Bring Bree. Not that she's a thing." I stop for a breath. "I'll tell my parents you'll be there at... seven?"

They agree and my blood seems to pump easier. When I leave, Bree sneaks me two thumbs up, which only makes me feel somewhat good with how things went. I know from experience that having her on my side really means nothing to her parents. In fact, for a second I wonder if her enthusiasm is a bad sign.

I don't have Bella walk me out. I don't know if this is more respectful or not, but it feels like it is, and I feel like I have to prove something to anyone who's watching. With my hand on her neck, hidden under her hair, I give her a squeeze and a brush of my thumb, kiss her on the cheek and walk myself to my car. As I stepped away from her though, I felt her tug on my belt loop. Even if we couldn't kiss goodbye, at least we had our own something.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! One more chapter to go. :)


	8. Eight

Two Weeks

Eight

The front door squeaks as usual, but nobody hears me come in. There's too much laughing going on. As I step into the living room, I freeze. It looks like Alice is planning on having her baby actually live in here instead of in her room. I look around at toys, baby seats, even a cradle over at the end of the couch where my dad's standing.

And Jasper sitting on the sofa.

Alice squishes a teddy bear into my face and then hands it to me.

"The swing, the car seat, and the gym are from Mom and Dad." Luckily she points to each one because I never would've guessed that the blanket thing with an arch above it would be called a gym. "And Jasper brought some stuff over."

He's holding some sort of plush something with a long snout. An aardvark?

"My mom," he says.

"Not you?" For some reason I want him to have some part in it.

"That one's mine." He points to the one I'm holding. "Or, I picked it out. Squeeze it."

I squeeze it and it starts playing a tune. I toss the bear at Jasper and give him a look that says he'll have to do more than that to prove himself worthy. At least that's what I mean for the look to say. I think Alice picks up on it because she says, "Jasper put the cradle together. You can help him carry it upstairs later."

"Can I?" I say, and then pull my mom aside to tell her about Bella's parents coming over tomorrow, and as I'm telling her it's dawning on me that tomorrow is my mother's birthday.

I laugh and rub my eyes. "Sorry. Sorry."

She kisses my cheek. "It's great. It'll be like a party."

I imagine a very somber party, a way too long and uncomfortably silent dinner. One where you can hear things like the refrigerator running, and water dripping from the faucet upstairs in my mom and dad's bathroom. With the door closed.

It's only like that for a little while, and maybe only for me. I notice the differences between my parents and Bella's right away. Her mom is in this straight dress that looks like she's just come from a business meeting, and Phil's shirt is wrinkle-free and tucked into his pants. Slacks.

My dad's wearing a similar button up shirt only it's hanging loose, and it has more than a few wrinkles. And my mom is in jeans and a fuzzy sweater. Both of my parents are dressed in what they've been wearing all day, while it looks like Bella's parents got purposely dressed up for the occasion.

Phil shakes my hand, which he doesn't have to do, so the fact that he does do it, I think there must be something behind it. I hope it's acceptance. Maybe it's nothing but politeness.

Ninja calls me Railroad and hugs me, which is weird. The hug, not the name. I don't mind the name; it reminds me of what to watch out for.

I don't really know how to greet Bella. I can't do it in the way I want to, so I just kiss her cheek, and it's awkward, like I can't find her cheek or decide which one, but really it's because I feel too many sets of eyes on me. When I'm sure nobody's looking, I get her on the lips. She's grinning when I back away.

We don't sit down to dinner right away. The parents decide to get to know each other in the living room. I watch Phil and Renee take in the scene: the baby swing and car seat off in the corner, some stuffed toys still lingering on the sofa. My mom hustles Alice over to get rid of them. Renee smooths her dress down behind her as she sits right where Jasper's bear sat a second ago. Wine is declined because Bella's parents don't drink alcohol. So they sit down with glasses of water, everyone asking what everyone else does for a living. Bella's on the sofa with her parents and Bree, next to the recliner I'm sitting in. It isn't reclined because Alice is sitting on its arm. My dad's in his chair, and my mom's on the floor by his legs, which she says is fine because she has to keep jumping up and checking on her potatoes.

"Stay out of the fridge!" Alice yells at our mom every time she disappears. The cake she made for her is in there. Alice might be in denial, but I know there's no way our mom can stay out of the fridge for a whole day.

I keep catching Bella's eye and holding her gaze. I don't care about what anyone else is saying. I can't wait to get her alone. Alone, alone. Like with everyone else gone.

She's wearing a dress, and every so often one of the straps slinks down her shoulder and I watch her fingers push it back up which makes me shift in my seat. She must notice because the next time it happens, as she adjusts her strap, she smiles just enough for me to see.

My dad announces that he would like everyone to join him out back. Bella and I are last in line. I follow behind her holding her hips. I pull her to my chest, move her hair and kiss the back of her neck.

"Hey, Bella," I whisper.

"Hey." She tilts her head to the side and I slide my mouth up to her ear.

"Hey."

She laughs.

I wrap my arms around her stomach. "I want you alone."

She turns toward me and kisses my lips, her fingers tucked into the neck of my shirt. "Tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it later."

"About what?"

"Something." She takes my fingers. "Come on."

We walk past the staircase to the back door.

I start to let go of her hand as we pass through the doorway, but she holds tighter, which makes me think this, holding hands, must be okay to do in front of her parents. I hold tighter back.

Outside my mom's standing under the biggest tree, the maple, covering her mouth and making this quiet squealing sound.

I can't help but laugh when I see what's making her do this. The bricks. The missing bricks are curving around this new garden area in the corner of our yard. All new soil, and little plant markers poking out of the ground.

"A vegetable garden," my mom says, her voice getting all high-pitched. "When did you do all this? I didn't even think you were listening to me." She hits my dad's arm.

"I always listen to you," my dad says, which can't really be true, but I take note of it anyway because it makes my mom's eyes shine with tears. "And I did it early this morning before you got up."

Bella's mom is smiling; Phil looks confused. Maybe he can't figure out why a pile of dirt is making my mom so happy that she's crying.

"You're the brick thief?" Alice asks.

"Ever since we first put them in," my dad says, "I thought they were stacked too high. From a distance, most of the flowers were hidden."

"You were gaslighting me!" my mom says, putting an arm around him.

His arm goes over her shoulders and he kisses the top of her head. "I didn't think anyone would notice. Leave it to you."

"Why didn't you just take them all down at once? Why were you such a sneak?"

"I had to keep it a surprise. Knowing you, you'd want to get rid of them, and I'd have to explain everything." He points to a basket next to her garden. "You can use that for harvesting." He picks it up and hands it to her. "And these." There are gardening tools inside, and a pair of gloves.

While they're all occupied outside checking out which vegetables are planted and what to feed them and when to expect them to sprout or whatever, and while Alice is entertaining Bree, or the other way around, I pull Bella back into the living room. I bring her down next to me on the sofa. She leans against my chest, her arm across my thigh.

A hand to the side of her head, I pull her in even closer and kiss the corner of her hairline. Letting my fingers glide down, I push her loose strap out of the way, tracing her soft skin from her shoulder to her neck, and back down again. I close my eyes. She moves her arm around my stomach to hold onto my side. I try not to get turned on by this, being this close to her, feeling her, not with all these people here, not with her _parents_ here, but damn if I can help it. I shift in my seat for the twentieth time tonight.

"My parents said we can see each other." She touches my chin so that I look down at her, and she kisses me. I want to keep the kiss going, or at least let my lips linger on hers, only she pulls back. "But I have an early curfew."

"What time?"

"I talked them into eleven."

"What do they think can happen after eleven that can't happen at four?"

"Shh." She laughs. "I know."

"That's why you said tomorrow?" I run my fingers up her arm and push her strap back in place.

"It's because you came over, Edward. The things you said. It struck them. I mean, you impressed them. You didn't think you could, but see? You did. By just being you."

I bend to kiss her again.

If I had just done all that in the first place—swallowed my pride, was honest about my tattoo rather than being all ass-hurt that they'd judged me on it. If I'd just talked to them and said I loved and respected Bella, then none of that would've happened, and maybe Bella wouldn't even have an early curfew now. But that's the thing about life. Sometimes you don't even know you're capable of something until you catch yourself actually doing it.

So anyway, I'd done what I'd done to ruin things, and done what I'd done to fix them. And even though they seem fixed for now, I know enough to know it's just that:_ for now_. Something will happen again that'll make her parents mad at me and I'll have to win them over again. But at least I get how that works now, and that it _does_ work. At least I know that once you piss your girlfriend's parents off it isn't forever or the end of the world.

This leads me to think about Alice and Jasper. Maybe the way I've been looking at Jasper is similar to the way Bella's parents were looking at me. If I look at him a little differently, like the fact that Jasper's sticking around even with a baby coming, that he was just a little scared at first, and who wouldn't be? And how that day at the diner when he said he was free, he looked more tormented than free... Maybe Jasper's an OK guy.

Everyone's loud enough coming back inside that Bella and I have time to take our hands off each other and straighten ourselves up. Hopefully we're the only ones who notice how strange it is that we're sitting on the couch all stiff, staring at a blank TV screen with our hands in our own laps. I slouch down and put my feet on the coffee table to look a little more natural.

"Feet off that table," my mom says, which is so normal that I relax.

During dinner Phil raises his water glass to propose a toast. But his toast isn't really a toast.

"Bella has brought it to our attention that we treated you unfairly the other evening in our home, Edward. After giving it some thought, and getting to know your family, I'd have to say I agree."

Everyone but me raises their glass to his, and takes a sip.

My mom grins at me.

"Unfairly?" my dad says.

"Don't worry about it," I tell him. "It's between us," I say to Phil as a _sort of_ acceptance to his _almost _apology. I clink my glass to his.

Phil turns to my dad. "I'd say that Edward understands where we're coming from, and now Renee and I have a better idea of where he's coming from."

I want to ask if anyone knows where Bella's coming from. Their own daughter. But before I can say anything, Alice interrupts with, "I treat him unfairly every day," which makes Bree laugh, and the subject change.

It turns out that Alice's interruption is a good thing because until I get better at knowing when to tell the truth and when to hold it back, it's best to have someone around to shut me up.

I feel Bella's shoe tap mine from the other side of the table. She interlocks our feet the way she does and smiles.

God, I want to touch that smile, kiss it. And then her strap slips down, and everything about her is driving me nuts so I have to look away. As I look at my plate, getting this visual of Bella lying back on my bed with that smile on her face, I have one of those moments where I'm really glad people, especially Bella's parents, can't read minds. I take some satisfaction in this and picture Bella naked.

I laugh.

"What?" Renee asks.

"Oh, he just does that," my mom says. "It means he's nervous." She pats and then squeezes my hand.

Renee smiles and tilts her head the way girls do when they're seeing something cute.

…

Bella tails me home after school. Everyone's gone. Even Alice, who went to Jasper's.

We're alone. Completely.

We hurry to my room.

When my door's closed, I kiss her, my hands on her hips, backing her up to the bed.

"Do you want me?" she asks, lifting my shirt. I can feel her fingers on my skin, my sides, chest, shoulders.

"Do you want this to last?" I almost groan.

"Yes."

"Then be careful what you say." I kiss her, not really wanting her to be careful with anything.

When my shirt is off, and she's sitting on my bed, me standing there in between her legs, she goes for my fly. I'm just watching her, waiting for my jeans to be pushed to the floor. But before getting the button open she stops, pauses like she's staring at my torso, and just puts her arms around me, resting her cheek against my stomach.

I hold her head there.

"You're so soft," she says, rubbing her face against me. I feel wetness on my skin and lift her chin.

"Are you crying?"

"No," she says as tears fall.

"What's wrong?" I laugh, just a low chuckle, and shake my head because she's crying and she doesn't need that now.

"Nothing. Nothing."

I start to bend down to kiss her but she stops me, hands on my face. "One thing."

"What?" My eyes dart between hers; they're still watery.

She stares into me but all she says is my name before a couple more tears spill out.

"What, Bella?"

"All of me loves you." She smiles, but I know my smile is bigger than hers.

Hands at my elbows, she pulls me on top of her. I go easily as she scoots toward the top of the bed.

She runs her fingers up my arms and around my shoulders. I'm kissing her so hard I'm afraid I might be getting her with teeth, but when I ease up, she follows me, her lips staying on mine.

I feel her tongue on my top lip. I grind my hips into her. But that isn't enough. I want her hand on me so I fall to my side and take her hand and place it over my jeans where I want it. She smiles and starts unbuttoning my pants, leaning against me. I'm on my back and she's kissing all over my chest and stomach, tugging my jeans down. I slide my fingers into her hair as her mouth reaches the lowest part of my stomach. She sweeps her lips even lower. Her tongue.

"Bella." I want her mouth there, or her legs straddling me. I don't care, one or the other. Something. Anything. "Bella," I say again. Maybe I'm begging.

She slips her hand into my boxers and strokes me. I groan. It's a groan of fucking relief to feel that. I pull my boxers off to give her better access.

But then she lets go of me, and I lift my head. She takes off her shirt and her pants.

I watch.

She has a condom; I have no idea where it came from. She rolls it on for me and my head's back on the pillow. I'm still watching her though as she strips off her bra and underwear, my eyes trailing over every curve of her body. Twice.

I let my fingers meet the best part of her waist and follow the line down to her hip.

"Edward," she says, leaning over me, my hands catching her breasts, my mouth catching her lips. "I want you on top of me. I like your weight on me."

She doesn't have to say it again. I turn her over and she's pulling me, her hands gripping my ribs. Her eyes are closed the whole time. I settle between her legs. I like my weight on her. I like her legs wrapped around me and her hands that won't let me go.

"I missed this," I say as I push into her. But that doesn't sound right, not exactly. "I missed you." I can barely get the words out as I move over her. I force them out.

Drawing my hands up along the bed past her neck, past her head, I grip the edge of the mattress and pull myself up and against her. It makes her gasp and raise her knees and lift her hips, and moan.

"Edward," she whispers, and I'll do anything to hear that again. So I repeat it, pull myself up with the edge of the mattress. I do it over and over until I'm way too close.

Her arms are wrapped around my back and she's holding me tight to her. I stop moving for a second, but she doesn't. "Go," she says, so I do. But I'm thinking about literature class or science or math. Shakespeare and neutrons and pi. It isn't helping.

I keep trying really hard to hold back. She wanted me on top of her; I have to do this for her.

"Bella, I- you feel too good." I try to warn her. I'm about to lose it, there's no doubt. I run a hand down her side to her thigh and just go for it. Hard. Faster.

She falls first, tightening her fingers in my hair, my name following God on her lips. And damn if I don't love that. I let myself go. As if I have a choice, as if I have any control.

I'm panting like some dog, and sweating too. She's rubbing up and down my back, a slow drag of fingertips, over and over again. I look down at her, push hair from her face, off her forehead. There are still tears in her eyes. Or tears in her eyes again. I swipe my thumb under one. But I realize as she blurs up, that my eyes are also watery. I laugh and kiss her all over her face, fast, and not gentle, until she's laughing too.

"You're my favorite," she says, hugging me around my neck.

"Your favorite what?" I ask muffled into the corner of her shoulder.

"Everything. You're my favorite everything."

I lift up to look down at her. She clutches her pendants that I've forgotten are still hanging around my neck.

I take the chain off and put it on her. And then I stare at her and she stares back.

I kiss my fingers and touch her knee.

"We're back to normal," I say.

"Better than normal."

I let my hand slide up her leg.

"Don't think you're getting your jacket back just because you gave me back my necklace."

I watch her smile at the end, and her eyebrows go up.

"It's yours, _Moonshine_."

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you all for reading! Your support means more than I can say.

This is it for now. My life has become really busy lately. I may start a witfit mid-March or April. I want to, but I have to see if real life will allow me the time. Until then, maybe I'll see you on twitter. Take care of yourselves!


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